


Et In Insomnia Ego

by SerAnneliese



Series: Between Love and Duty [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Ending, Comrades-compliant, Episode Ignis DLC, F/M, Kingsglaive-compliant, M/M, somewhat canon-compliant but not entirely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 79,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerAnneliese/pseuds/SerAnneliese
Summary: He looks out at the audience and the flashes from the cameras temporarily blinds him. But past the beams of white and yellow, through the gold rays cast down from the high sun, he can see sparkling tears in the eyes of his people. There’s dedication there, real and true love for their King. Some of these people have been working for Lucis since he was biting ankles and have watched him, just like Ignis, grow from a boy to a man. From “son” to “sir,” from Your Highness to Your Majesty, thousands have supported him, inviting him into their homes, businesses, and ultimately leaving the fate of the world in his hands. And they’ve each taken a piece of the load from his shoulders and placed it upon their own in hopes of one day seeing their dreams of peace and good fortune realized.He really should say something.Insomnia, post-darkness. With the world rebuilt to their standards, King Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV plans to rule fairly and justly with his friends at his side. Complications are inevitable, however, when this many important people gather in a place which has been home to so much death.





	1. PROLOGUE/The Infinite Possibilities

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings everyone!  
> welcome to my second (published) fic. it’s been in the making for quite some time and I want to thank everyone for their patience regarding it. the ideas in the fic are FAR from what I was originally writing, which I still might dust off once this one is concluded, when I was still updating Private Confessions, Gentle Assurances. But despite the existential doubts I encountered during the creative process I am certain that this one had exceeded its predecessor: perhaps due to content, but undoubtedly in the fields of proofreading and editing. PCGA was unbeta’d after chapter 10 and completely unrevised by me, the negligent author, after chapter 14. as a result it (still) has a lot of typos, repetitive wording, and generally strange sentence structure. This one has been read and reread at least twice by me, the learning-to-not-be-as-negligent author. It is a MONSTER of a fic that contains much of my heart and soul, therefore I look forward to it being presented to the readers of the World Wide Web. I humbly maintain the fact that comments at the end of chapters gives writers a reason to smile. me personally? They give me a reason to wake up on Monday mornings. not to get sappy (let’s save it for the fic) but the smile that comes to my face when I see an email regarding [Ao3] Comment on (insert name of fic) or [Ao3] You’ve got kudos! couldn’t rightfully be compared to the sun. the sun wouldn’t stand a chance.  
> If you’re new to me, howdy, please enjoy this fic and consider checking out my first one which is available through a lil click on my pseudonym. their stories are not at all related but you might find common themes between the two of them.

PROLOGUE

It’s the rush of water that he hears first.

It’s all black and dark, and like the beginning of a movie, the scene slowly fades into view. He’s under ocean waves, just below the point of breaking the surface. He can see his hands moving slowly and sluggishly in the water. There’s no slide of liquid across his limbs or tickle from floating hair on his ears. There’s no feeling from the water around him at all.

No feeling except pressure.

The pressure doesn’t hurt but it’s certainly not comfortable. It keeps him suspended in place, his brain running a constant projection of  _ what now? _ His vision darkens because he’s now looking down. The ocean goes on, and on, and on, into dark, uncharted depths. Its coldness, although he can’t feel it, makes him want to break the surface and never return. To never step a foot or even a single toe into it ever again. Because what you can’t see can’t hurt you, right?

From the corner of his eye he sees a glint, much like a diamond refracting light. He doesn’t move but wills the object towards him. It obeys, slowly floating from the coldness to where he sits, suspended. The logistics of breathing are irrelevant here.

What looks small and round soon morphs into something long and slender. Something fragile and fragrant, like the gardens of his youth, is coming towards him. It bursts apart, bubbles running free towards the surface, and all its petals float away into the depths except for one. It’s always only one, from the top of the plant, that makes it to him before his vision again fades to black.

 

When Noctis wakes up, it’s to sunshine.

The curtains in his room have been tied open and bright sun beams wash in from the glass panes. It floods across the carpet, drenches the furniture, and stabs at his eyeballs rather unpleasantly. He squints and sits up against the headboard, facing the wall.

The sunshine is nice and warm, making him want to curl up and go back to sleep. He runs a hand along his bearded chin, then rubs his eyes with a yawn. It’d be a lot nicer, he decides once his brain starts working, if the sun was coming in through his own window, curtains parted.

He takes a look around Ignis’ room, neat and tidy, all heavy wood furniture. Sturdy, reliable, and kept in impeccable shape. The metaphor for the owner doesn’t need to be made.

He rubs the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other stuck into the air in a stretch, then sets them on either side of his body. His left hand touches soft blanket and his right something wet. He flinches away in disgust, then lifts his hand to sniff it without thinking. It doesn’t smell like anything. He looks down to the bed itself and sees a single sylleblossom sitting there, water droplets on its gentle petals. His ears tune in to his environment and the sound of running water is the first thing he hears.

It’s too close to be the kitchen but too loud to be one of the Citadel’s decorative fountains, so he assumes it must be coming from the bathroom.

When it stops with the small squeak of a faucet, he knows he’s right.

Not like it was detective work, but when it’s this early in the morning and he’s got weird phantom flowers appearing in his (Ignis’) room overnight and soaking the sheets, it’s something he gives himself credit for. He reaches for the nightstand and slips the Ring onto his finger, watching its center gem gleam in the morning sun. He then stretches off the bed and plucks his jacket from the floor, rifling through his pockets until he finds his phone. Miraculously, it still has a charge. He taps the screen and opens his contact list, finds the name he wants, then presses “dial.” It rings four times before it’s answered with a gentle, “Yes, Noctis?”

“Hi, Luna,” he says, then looks for a bottle of water. He finds one on the nightstand, takes a small swig to wash the sleep from his voice, and continues. “Just wanted to check in on you, see how your morning is going.”

“Have you been up long?” she asks from the other line. He shifts in bed, twiddling a button on his jacket.

“A little while.”

“I see,” she says politely. “His Majesty needn’t inform me of his sleeping habits. By the sound of your voice when you answered, I’d believe you if you said you had just woken up.”

He cracks a smile, scratching his beard. “You got me. How’s your morning, though?”

“Fine,” she answers, then draws a breath. “Work has kept me busy into the nights, as I do not doubt it has for you as well. Ravus asks a few moments of my time this morning.”

Her laughter is one of the sweetest things Noct has ever heard. “He believes his sister has forgotten him.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”

There’s a small break in the conversation.

“Is that all?” he hears her ask. He thumbs the stem of the sylleblossom, the water drying in the sun’s rays.

“Yeah,” he answers, smiling despite her not being able to see it. “Take care.”

“You as well.”

He ends the call, then puts his phone on the pillow beside him. He turns his head towards the window and gazes past the light, across the vast expanse of the Crown City. Its skyscrapers rise into the air, shining like polished stones, a testament to the resilience and stubbornness of the people of Insomnia.

He hears the bathroom door open and feet pad into the bedroom, a blur of a white towel being wrapped around shoulders. He doesn’t look away from the window until Ignis speaks.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.”

He turns to face his General, another smile sneaking onto his lips when he sees the warm green eyes that have protected him for so long. Ignis is smiling as well, his hair damp and pushed back behind his ears. He’s wearing a plush bathrobe that’s so like Ignis he almost laughs. Instead, he keeps the smile plastered on his face and turns back to the window, closing his eyes under its gentle morning heat.

“Beautiful day.”

Ignis moves to his dresser, then to his closet, gathering his clothes for the day.

“Might I speak freely?” he asks. Noct does laugh then, a light, airy thing.

“All this time and you still ask permission? Don’t remember you needing it before.”

Noct turns from the window and finds Ignis combing through his hair in front of a mirror. “We are alone, you know. You can say what you want.”

“I merely wanted to suggest,” Ignis begins, combing his sandy blond hair backwards and out of the way, “That every day is a beautiful day.”

“Today is especially so,” Noct replies, remembering a conversation he’d had with his father so long ago. “The sun’s bright, Insomnia’s awake, and so are we.”

“Ever the gracious speaker,” Ignis replies and meets his eyes in the mirror. He sets his comb down and crawls beside Noct in bed, placing a hand on his knee in a comforting gesture.

“Every day is a beautiful day, now that the sun has returned.”

Today is just a day of smiles, it seems, because Noct can’t keep the one that blossoms across his face from view.

“The real sun or a metaphorical one?”

Ignis mirrors his smile and leans inward, taking Noct’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, eyes crinkled in admiration.

“The only sun I see is right in front of me.”

Were he 20, Noct would have been embarrassed to even think about Ignis saying something like that. At 32, however, his reservations for physical contact and meaningful admissions have all but left him. Instead, he runs the back of his fingers across Ignis’ face, carding them through his hair when he reaches the back of his head.

“How did I get so lucky?”

Noct returns to his own room a short while later, which is just a door away from Ignis’. In fact, they have conjoined rooms, an ornate door being the only separation between the two. This is for safety purposes, of course, installed by his father to have easy access to his most trusted confidant, Clarus. Certainly not for when Noct hears the rain pattering against his window late at night and is suddenly very lonely. His bed is too big for one person, anyways, and Ignis’ is just big enough for two. Lucky him that neither of them like sleeping alone anymore.

He’d had the same installed for what was supposed to be Gladio and Prompto’s rooms, set just at the end of the hall, but assurance from the former and his General had left it and both rooms unused, declaring it was too high a security risk to house four of the most important members of Insomnia’s government in the same vicinity.

The official use for them was “guest rooms,” cleaned and made up for when the two’s business kept them at the Citadel enough that driving home was impractical. Gladio lived not far from the Citadel in his father’s old house, mostly untouched by the destruction that nearly wiped Insomnia off the map 12 years ago. It was one of the first residential areas to be reconstructed following the reopening of the Crown City, all four of them joining the effort on the ground to get it rebuilt. It was expected of him to help, as the leader of the Kingsglaive, but they all felt that obligation to lend a hand where they could.

Prompto, on the other hand, lived a good thirty minutes away in a humble, yet secure, apartment complex, not too dissimilar to Noct’s old one during high school.

“I may have saved the world with you guys and all,” he had said, a sheepish grin on his face. “But I’m still a common man, and living in the Citadel is just too much for me.”

He was in and out of Insomnia a lot, making frequent trips to Hammerhead and Lestallum to keep energy running throughout Lucis. His official title within the government is  _ Ambassador to Niflheim from the Kingdom of Lucis _ , but seeing as though the  _ Ambassador to the Kingdom of Lucis from Niflheim _ did the majority of the work, he found himself invested in the resurgence of construction and technology, helping to bring back solid infrastructure and electronics, consumer and commercial, to Lucis.

Needless to say, that when either of them did stay in the Citadel on business, they hardly slept in those guest rooms.

Gladio was a little harder to convince, still holding the conviction that the King shouldn’t be “holding sleepovers like a teenager,” every time he brought it up, but the first time he convinced Prompto to sleep in his room was enough for all of the times.

Gladio might crash on the couch, blaming the King for his stiff neck in the morning, while he and Prompto would awake refreshed from sleeping in Noctis’ oversized bed.

“There’s room for at least five people in that bed,” Prompto told him once, shrugging on his uniform jacket. He sauntered over to the Shield and slapped him on the back. “You’re getting too old to be sleeping rough.”

“And you for not bein’ able to sleep alone,” Gladio grumbled in response.

That was also directed at Noctis, who sat watching them with happy nostalgia. Prompto had no doubt lost some of his innocence during the Dark Years, forced to have faith in a light which was shrouded behind so many layers of ash and dust. He still had a unique charm about him, a sort of nervous energy that caused him to be on the move constantly. He always carried a gun with him, not to mention the custom he kept in the Armiger for additional firepower, and the trigger-fingers on both his hands were hardly ever at rest. When it got too noticeable and too frequent for Gladio or Ignis to quell, Noct would take both of his hands in his own and smoothe over them, running his thumbs over the callouses and scars that dotted them. He’d taught him ways to help with the nervous energy, like even breathing, silent affirmations, and perhaps most generously, dancing.

It was thanks to Ignis that Noct ever learned to dance at all, his patient teaching turning a bumbling mess of a kid into a passing dancer, one who could eventually move with a grace befitting a King. Noct had passed that knowledge down to Prompto, who would insist no one else be in the room when they dance.

He was a lot less awkward than Noct had anticipated, and he paid attention when he talked, a big difference from the gangly youth he’d once been. He was about as stiff as a board, though, and couldn’t move with the required fluidity when he was especially stressed or worried. They needed to work on relaxing his shoulders while dancing, and if King Noctis Lucis Caelum CXIV wanted time to teach him, he’d have it.

Time is something he’s learned to not take for granted. Insomnia was only reestablished a year and a half ago, after much more bureaucratic nonsense he’d had the stomach for, and more elbow grease than was good for his joints. Getting its citizens to return and rebuild after a decade of separation was no easy feat. Many of their homes and businesses had been completely destroyed, crushed during the initial onslaught or burnt by the raging flames which continued for over a week once Niflheim took the Crystal, reports said. Then the battle with Ardyn had taken place, his myriad beasts and penchant for destruction further ruining the city. Many of its citizens had lost their lives and their loved ones to the destruction. It was through tireless campaigning that Insomnia was back on the map as the functional capital of the Kingdom of Lucis, and massive amounts of materials and labor that power was restored to help clear debris and begin building anew. The fact that they had most of the city rebuilt within two years was a miracle in itself, which wouldn’t have been possible without the miracle of the people, who refused to be kept down by circumstance. For ten years they lived in darkness, fear creeping into the edges of their vision, nights and days with no distinction. Ten years they waited on a King to rescue his throne from the Usurper and restore the sun to the sky. For thousands, they’d waited for the King of Kings to ascend and banish the blight of the heavens, known as the Starscourge, from the earth and their bodies. Now their faith had paid off, and it was time to move on. Insomnia was truly the city that never sleeps.

Rescue efforts had been debated once they’d restored power to see if anyone could have possibly survived the decade the city was in ruins. It was discussed and ultimately decided that they’d need a facility and doctors to take care of the remains they’d find and any and all possessions with them be returned to the families.

The Hunters at Meldacio volunteered for this task. Since the Scourge had been wiped from the land and daemons were no longer an issue, they had more time on their hands than they knew what to do with. A few remained at Meldacio to take the scattered disturbances reported across Lucis while the rest gave their best efforts to locate, piece together, and trace the origins of human remains scattered across Insomnia. They brought in dogs trained to detect scent patterns through ash, and Chocobos to climb the piles of uncleared debris for remaining parts. It was ceaseless work, hardly any action being taken to clear the rubble until the Hunters gave the OK, but before anyone knew it they had reached the city’s limits and rejoiced in the peace they’d helped thousands of families find, resting their heads a little easier at night knowing countless souls had been brought to peace.

It took Noctis time-- more than he’d like to admit-- to scour the entirety of the Citadel, looking for his father’s remains.

Clarus’ and the Council were the first to be found. The meeting room where the treaty was supposed to have been signed was inspected for survivors, and upon finding none, cleared and left vacant for future repair and use.

The skylight had been broken and years of ash and dust had settled over the wreckage, bodies and Magitek gear rotting all the same. Gladio had found his father after searching in vain on the ground, the sun spilling through the busted window and landing on his body, pinned to the wall by his own blade. He still wore his official robes and Amicitia patriarch ring, the years erasing any smell from the corpse. He hadn’t handled the removal of it from the wall, but he carried the stretcher in mournful silence to the morgue, where the remains were examined, verified, and held until further notice. He’d called Iris and she made a special trip to the city’s center, finding him in the guest bedroom Noct had designated for him. It was late-- or early, however you counted the hours, when she arrived, but he’d stayed up to meet her.

It was only then he’d allowed himself to cry.

Iris held him as he sobbed, all professional reservations forgotten. Here, with the one person who could understand his pain, he could be open. His friends had lost their loved ones, and so had nearly everyone present during the rebuilding effort, but no one besides Iris could feel the pain he was feeling in those morning hours. Iris had always been so strong, internalizing her pain into something happy and productive. She’d mourned for her father and Insomnia after the attack but it was understood that Gladio had never had his chance to mourn. His lineage, his father, decidedly gone with the swipe of a sword. There was no time for grief when he had a future King to protect. And although many could relate to and sympathize with this, none could understand it better than his sister.

Mr. Scientia was next, found lying with a book and two daggers in a hallway. Ignis had made peace with his uncle’s passing long ago and simply allowed the remains to be taken and cremated, belongings and all. The sentiment of keeping a loved one’s things wasn’t lost on him, but in a time when so much had been lost and much more needed to be created, it simply wasn’t practical to hang on to the past. He’d had a drink that night to calm his nerves, but otherwise remained fine in the face of the discovery.

Prompto’s adoptive parents were nowhere to be found. His old neighborhood had been completely obliterated by the Old Wall, remains a rare things in the pulverized buildings. He’d doubted they’d stayed in the city, surmising that they’d left and been swept away with the rest of the refugees. They’d never attempted contact for the ten years after the fall, and even when he’d made himself known to the public as an advocate for the reconstruction of the Crown City he still received no calls or emails from them. He’d gone to Noct’s room after adding their names to the recovery effort, falling into his bed and allowing himself to cry. Noct had rubbed circles into his back and pet his hair, watching his hands shake and shoulders wrack with sobs.

“All the time spent waiting, wanting their attention, and them never giving it, and I still had hope they’d reach out,” he had hiccuped, slamming his fist into the mattress. “I still had hope that they’d let me know they’re alive, that they’d left Insomnia and survived the Scourge. All those years of them disappointing me, and now I’ve disappointed myself by thinking they’d change.”

Once he’d fallen silent, breathing through his mouth, eyes red and sore from tears, Noct spoke.

“Maybe, because even though they didn’t love you, you loved them. And still do.”

Those words had been enough to make him cry all over again, Noct turning him over and pulling him into his chest. He didn’t dare think of going to sleep until he felt the tremors of Prompto’s aching body fade away into the night, and his exhausted face was finally resting against him, eyebrows uncreasing and tears drying on his pink cheeks.

They’d spent the day together after that, Noct cancelling all of his appointments so he could teach Prompto the waltz. It was his favorite dance and one a person could lose themselves in once they found their rhythm. He and Prompto did just that, dancing with their feet bare on the cool floor of Noct’s bedroom. After what was hours of stepping and gliding, he and Prompto collapsed onto one of the couches, muscles deeply aching from the dance, and sat bonelessly for longer than was comfortable. Prompto had been the first to speak, nursing a sweaty bottle of water.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it,” he admitted, sniffing once. His face was an unreadable, neutral expression, and Noct hated seeing it. He looked drained and spiritless. Noct scooted closer to him on the couch and scooped his shoulders with an arm, Prompto resting his head on him in response. Noct squeezed once, then pressed a kiss to his temple.

“You can forget the hurt they gave,” he started, moving his mouth from Prompto’s head. “But don’t forget the love you had that caused it. Nothing can hurt you without your permission.”

He’d told himself exactly that when he stumbled across his father’s corpse two days later, the single mound on the floor a sickening reminder of mortality in an otherwise untouched area.

It took them what seemed like forever to repair the elevators in the Citadel, Noct opting to survey the secret passageways with Ignis for survivors or rogue Magitek once the one leading to the meeting room had been reconnected to its cables.

They found no survivors and no Magitek, the areas scarily untouched by the passage of time. When the elevator opened up to the final passageway, he hadn’t expected to find his corpse so far down here.

He’d been petrified, frozen like the Old Wall guardians throughout Insomnia’s interior. Flashes of the grotesque display of his body by Ardyn, later deemed to be another one of his illusions, ran through his mind. He had felt a strong had steady his shoulder, and turned to see Ignis telling him with his eyes to be strong. He remembers swallowing dryly, all the saliva leaving his mouth, and reaching up to squeeze his General’s hand.

Slowly, the gloved hand in his a grounding point, Noct had made his way to the corpse, unmistakably the late King Regis in his all-black attire. He made note of the decorative cane, fallen just a couple of inches from his grip. One finger was missing from his right hand.

“It must have been severed as the assailants aimed to take the Ring,” Ignis commented, making the same observation. “We were lucky to have had Lady Lunafreya present to protect it.”

Noct said nothing, just stood above the body in silence. After a few minutes, he felt Ignis squeeze his hand and gently coax him away.

“Let’s call for a stretcher, shall we?” he had said quietly. Noct’s gaze remained on the body even after he’d been moved. Ignis stopped, took back his hand, and turned Noct’s face to look at him.

“He did what he could for the future,” the General whispered, his eyes conveying a plea, so genuine in its desperation that Noct felt tears sting the edges of his eyes. He forced them back just barely enough to swallow around the lump in his throat, covering Ignis’ hands with his own.

“I know,” he said quietly, nodding his head for emphasis.

“He did it for you, and for us.”

He met Ignis’ eyes again, and were it not for the scar across his nose, or the one on his upper lip, Noct felt he would’ve been able to continue to contain himself. But reminders of the tragedy of his life, and the fates that had befallen the people he loves were everywhere.

When Ignis saw the fat, wet tear spill first from his left eye, then two from his right, racing down his cheek to his chin, his heart nearly broke in a way he hadn’t thought possible.

Immediately, he pulled the King into his arms and pressed his face into his shoulder, removing his gloves to stroke his dark hair. Noct’s tears were silent, years of pain comes to reconciliation in this room. Ignis wanted to say a thousand things, to remind him that closure is one of the final steps of the grieving process, and it’s perfectly natural for old hurts to resurface after periods of inactivity. But instead, he let Noct’s tears soak into his uniform, focusing on smoothing a hand down his head and ignoring the discomfort where his King’s hands pulled at his clothes. Grief is a fickle thing, one that cannot be accurately quantified or consolidated into a neat package for everyone who experiences it. Death comes to us all, and had come to Insomnia far too early than was fair. That doesn’t mean that humans, with their infinite, shining possibilities, can ever be fully prepared for the extent of the hurt which follows.


	2. Waning and Waxing

Those were the harder events of the rebuilding effort. Compared to the grief of lost loved ones, some even still among the living, the rest was cake. There was still so much to do, so many stories left untold, but as Ignis liked to remind Noct, things should be taken one day at a time.

He can’t help but wonder, as he descends the stairs for a morning brief, Gladio by his side, how things might have been different had his past gone any other way.

He could have made a bad impression on Secretary Claustra, leaving Altissia and Lucis on less than amiable turns after the Dark Years. Had he not absorbed the full power of the Ring and defeated Ardyn, his friends and possibly all of Lucis might be dead. He could have lost Lunafreya to the Leviathan’s wrath had Ravus not been there to move her to safety and transport them to Niflheim in time to save Ignis. So many possibilities, a lot of them far worse than what had befallen them already, went unfulfilled and left to speculation. Definitely for the best, he thinks.

“The Glaives are preppin’ for a debrief with the Hunters this afternoon,” Gladio said, flipping through some papers then letting his hand fall to his side. “That same pack of Marlboros have been tying up efforts in Duscae for weeks, so it’s time to get it taken care of.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he responds. “They’ve been a thorn in our sides for too long now. Time we put an end to it.”

“And the team in Lestallum got the last of the Kings back to their tombs yesterday and sealed ‘em back up. You sure you’re gonna be OK without them sharing the load? I get stayin’ in-tune with Iggy, Prompto and I, but all of the Glaives? You should have at least one of ‘em lyin’ around in case it takes its toll. You’re just one guy.”

“While I appreciate your concern, Big Guy, the Kings have done what they could. It’s time to let them rest,” he replies cooly. “Worst case, I’ll go grey by 40.”

“Yeah,” Gladio scoffs, rounding a corner. “Iggy’s already got some near his temples. You drive him crazy with all the shit you pull, you know.”

“I’ve settled down. No more sneaking out of the castle without permission. And I eat almost all of my vegetables.”

He looks at Gladio, still nearly ten inches taller and 100 pounds heavier than himself, and reaches up to pluck a strand of hair from above his ear.

“What the—“

“Iggy’s not the only one going grey,” he jokes, pulling the strand between his fingers in a taunting manner. Gladio scowls and pushes his hair back but doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t worry,” he says and nudges his Shield, letting the hair flutter away. “35 looks good on you. I’m sure plenty of pretty grandmas wait to see you leave after training every day.”

“Just wait ‘til you’re my age.”

“When I am, you’ll still be older.”

“And I’ll still be able to kick your ass any day.”

“I’m thinking that’s treason.”

“Not if we bet on it.”

Noct laughs heartily, then they fall into a silence while walking. Before they reach the meeting room, Gladio gently places a hand on his shoulder. He stops walking and watches as the taller man leans against the wall, crossing his arms. He doesn’t look stern but the approaching conversation is serious, Noct can tell.

“I’m worried about Prompto,” is what he says. Noct shifts his weight and puts a hand on his hip.

“Why, what’s up with him?”

“Not like we don’t keep in contact; he’s learned his lesson about avoiding me. I just don’t like him livin’ all on his own outside the Citadel,” he admits, scratching his nose. “He never liked bein’ alone before. Wonder what’s different now.”

“Sounds like Prompto to me,” he offers. “He’s never been comfortable in the Citadel. You, Iggy and I were practically raised here so we don’t feel ostracized like he does. He visits every now and again: still smothers me when he sleeps.”

Gladio doesn’t laugh, just nods. Noct places a hand on his arm.

“Don’t worry about him. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll get him to come over tonight and we can all hang out.”

“Much as I’d like to, Iris is in town and is stayin’ at my place.”

“Bring her with you,” he states amiably. “She’s always welcome.”

“Thanks, but we’ll pass,” he says as they move from the wall towards the meeting room. “Tell Prompto I said hi, though. Make sure he’s doin’ alright, will ya?”

“Sure thing.”

The meeting goes on as usual, Cor and Gladio taking turns leading it. Afterwards, Noct’s schedule is remarkably free until later that day, so he returns to his room. On the way there, he sees Prompto looking out of a window, eyes far away from the present moment. He almost jumps out of his skin when Noct pats his back.

“Scared me,” he says, putting a hand on his chest. Noct grins and pats his bicep.

“You went pretty far just then. Bring me back a postcard?”

“Huh? Oh, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“… Stuff,” he responds with a shrug. He exhales, then turns back to the window, propping his head in his hands.

“Weird seeing you up here this time of day.”

“Don’t have anything going on ‘til later. Was gonna take a nap.”

Prompto shakes his head. “Same ol’ Noct.”

He turns to face the window once more, and Noct follows his gaze. From their location above the ground, they can see the whole of the Citadel’s courtyard, spotting the patrolling Glaives with ease. Past that and out into the city, Noct spies his old apartment complex, and Prompto’s current one not far from it. It’s sunny outside, passing clouds dimming the light for moments at a time. Noct glances at his friend and sees his eyes change with the levels of sun, going from deep blue to a light purple when the light hits them. He has creases below his eyes that never seem to go away, and it feels like he hasn’t seen him genuinely smile in ages. His uniform jacket is lying on the sill beside him, and Noct spies smatterings of freckles on his shoulders and down his arms, his right arm tanner than the left. Probably from all the driving he does. He wants to ask him when’s the last time he slept.

“You leaving the city tonight?” he asks instead, mimicking Prompto’s posture against the window.

“Cindy got a call for a tow that’ll take her all night to get to, so I was probably just gonna head home after I finish up here,” he responds. “I’ll go to Hammerhead later this week when she’s back.”

“How late are you going to be working?”

“Late.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose like  _ late _ just popped up and punched him. Noct realizes, then, that they’re not at the window nearest to he and Gladio’s guest rooms. They’re at the hall opposite theirs, where the Queen of Tenebrae will be staying in two day’s time for her goodwill visit.

He studies his friend’s face and is about to ask him why he’s here but nervously twitching fingers catch his eye. He has a hand to his mouth like he’s going to be sick. Noct sighs quietly, then leans into him.

“Wanna stay here tonight?” he offers, making note of how Prompto tenses then relaxes at his touch.

“Nah, I’m good,” he responds. “Need to go pack stuff for Hammerhead.”

“Go pack your stuff now and bring it here,” Noct insists. He slides an arm around Prompto’s shoulders and pulls him close, doing what he knows will comfort him. Prompto is quiet for a moment before speaking.

“Is that room ready? I haven’t slept there for a while.”

“Who cares? You’ll be staying in my room anyways.”

Noct says this casually, and to anyone else it would be strange, even frightening to be told they’re sleeping in the King’s room; it’s both strange and frightening to him to sleep anywhere in the Citadel. But when it’s Noct’s room, he feels less of the pressure to fit in. Most importantly, he can trust Noct. He can tell his best, royal friend anything.

Prompto looks at him and tries his best to smile, but he knows it’s tight and forced. Noct notices this too but doesn’t mention it, just pats his back and makes his way to his own room.

 

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. More meetings, one with the Council, one with just Ignis and Gladio, then a conference call with the Lestallum team, Talcott among them. He shares that there was a celebration through the city after the replacement of the last King.

“Folk here are real in favor of you putting them back to rest, Your Majesty,” Talcott tells him. As if on cue, he hears a loud cry of jubilation and music begin in the background. “Has there been any changes on your end, sir? Any side effects of lending your power to the Glaives? I know not all of them have tuned in, but it’s still a big amount of magic to expend.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he replies, tapping on his chest. “I got everything I need right here. Just because we can’t see the Crystal doesn’t mean it doesn’t watch over us.”

“Too right,” Iris chimes in, her phone on over the car’s speakers. “Even if the Gods are asleep now, their blessing goes with Noct everywhere he goes. The people of Lestallum can rest easy knowing that.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them,” Talcott laughs good-naturedly. There’s something still so boyish about him, a gentle innocence Noct thanks the Gods the years without the light didn’t take away from him.

“You’ll be in town tonight, right Iris?” he asks.

“Sure will,” she answers. “Gladdy tell you?”

“Yeah. Hope you have fun. What about you Talcott?”

“Your Majesty?”

“What will you do now that our business in Lestallum is tied up for now?”

“Oh, I was thinking of helping Miss Cindy out at the garage. I’ve gotta add what you’ve told me to my journal before that, though. About your powers, and how you can handle the Kingsglaive tapping into it on a mass scale. It’s definitely worth noting.”

Noct thinks on this. “Prompto said that Cindy should be out tonight. Said she got a call for a tow and wouldn’t be back until well into tomorrow.”

“Is that right?” Talcott asks. “Guess I’ll ask Mr. Cid what he needs done.”

“Never a time for rest, huh Talcott?” Iris reponds.

“Hardly, ma’am. Not when there’s so many people who need our help.”

 

It’s late when he retires for the night, leaving his door unlocked in case Prompto needs in. He strips and showers, then slips into a dark pair of slacks and blue button-down. There’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” he calls and finishes the final few buttons on his shirt.

It’s Ignis, holding a bottle of wine and three glasses. He bows at the waist before entering and shutting the door behind him.

“Thought you might like something to help you relax,” he says in way of a greeting. “Prompto as well. Has he arrived yet?”

“Not just yet. Look at you being considerate,” he teases lightly.

“I wouldn’t dare dream of being otherwise.”

Ignis sets the bottle and glasses down on an end table, unscrewing the cork with a practiced ease and pouring them a glass. There’s another knock at the door, and Ignis opens it this time. “Hey, Iggy,” Prompto says, slight surprise in his tone. Ignis opens it further and the blond walks in, a nervous smile on his face.

Noct raises his glass to him and Prompto waves.

“Something special going on?” he asks.

“Iggy brought us wine,” Noct answers.

“Wine can be enjoyed any day of the year,” Ignis adds, filling the third glass and handing it to Prompto. He sets his stuff down at the foot of the bed and walks over, giving a small thanks and taking it.

“Although it is best enjoyed with company.”

Noct raises his glass and the other two follow suit, tapping them lightly against each other. After a small round of chatter, Ignis bids them good night and exits the room to his own. Prompto watches him go, then turns to Noct once the door is shut.

“Seems like he was wanting a little more,” he comments. Noct raises an eyebrow.

“Another glass of wine?”

“No, not like that,” Prompto sniffs. “Like, a good night kiss or something?”

Noct doesn’t mean to but he laughs.

“You think Iggy’s the type that likes good night kisses?”

“Well, yeah? Have you met him? He was basically our Mom that year,” he responds, making his way to the couch. Noct follows him and they sit together, taking sips of their wine.

“You two are a thing still, right?”

Noct nods.

“Guess you could say that. He’s my right-hand man, after all.”

“Do… you ever kiss?” Prompto asks over the rim of his glass, slightly cautious. None of them have ever addressed he and Ignis’ relationship, just went along knowing they were an item. Noct smiles, then looks up at Prompto. Prompto waits expectantly.

“Sometimes. He’ll make me breakfast and I’ll say thanks with a kiss. He’s more of a hands kisser, though.”

Prompto nods at this information.

“What about cheeks?”

“Like I said, he’s not much for face-to-face kinda stuff. Least that I’ve seen.”

“Feet?”

Noct takes a sip of his wine but almost regrets it, nearly spitting it back out. Alarmed, Prompto sets down his glass and takes Noct’s, handing him several tissues.

“I’m sorry, dude, I didn’t mean--”

He’s cut off by Noctis laughing, mopping dark wine from the corners of his mouth.

“What the hell do you mean? You’re asking me if Iggy likes my feet?”

“Well, yeah!” Prompto asserts. “Isn’t that a sign of respect towards royalty? You kiss their feet or something?”

“You do know that’s a myth, right? That princes and princesses don’t really expect that?”

Noct meets his eyes, and he swears he sees the beginnings of a smile there. He gives him one of his own.

“Haven’t seen that for awhile,” he comments. Prompto leans back into his seat.

“What?”

Noct gestures to his face.

“A smile. You don’t do it very often anymore.”

“Do so,” Prompto retorts, but the defense falls flat. He drinks at his wine and doesn’t elaborate, so Noct pushes.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, you feeling alright? Gladio says you look like you haven’t slept.”

Prompto looks at him for clarification, and Noct gestures to his own eyes.

“The bags.”

A hand reaches up and Prompto gently prods at the underside of one eye, then sighs.

“I do. Sleep, that is. Just not very good when I do.”

“Anything you wanna talk about?”

Prompto sighs again, then shakes his head back and forth. It seems like there’s something he wants to say, but is actively fighting against it. Noct lets him continue for a while before draining his glass and standing, offering his hands to him. Prompto eyes them, then takes one and lets himself be pulled from the couch. Noct gestures to the wineglass in his hand and Prompto drinks the rest of it, then smiles.

“Iggy would be disappointed to know we aren’t savoring it.”

“Savor it later,” Noct says, leading him to the center of the room. “Right now let’s have fun.”

They stand in the center of Noct’s bedroom, facing one another, hand in hand. Noct slips his hands around Prompto’s waist and pulls him in, resting one hand on his hip. Prompto takes his position and spreads his feet, placing either hand on his King’s shoulders. Noct lets go for only a moment to grab the remote before sliding his hand back to his waist.

“You remember how to follow?” Noct asks. Prompto pulls himself closer to Noct and nods, visibly attempting to relax his shoulders and fall into rhythm. They dance in silence, the music low enough as to not disturb the neighboring rooms, and Noct closes his eyes when he feels Prompto fully relax in his arms. They used to be the same height when they were younger, but Noct sprouted up a couple of inches while Prompto remained mostly the same, his muscles filling out rather than his legs. While Noct was muscular for his size and Prompto was skinny but lean, now he’s tight and toned with a “dancer’s bod,” words courtesy of Prompto, and Prompto himself was now more like Noct was as a young adult. Noct is now just under six feet and Prompto remained at around 5’ 7”, giving them the perfect advantage as dancing partners.

Slowly, he moves the hand from Prompto’s hip and gently coaxes his head to his chest, smoothing his hair down before resting his chin on the top of his scalp. They sway there in silence, the world outside of the room ceasing to exist for a little while. He feels his fingers grip at the fabric of his shirt and squeeze.

“I…” Prompto starts.

“It’s not like I don’t want to tell you what’s wrong…”

Noct waits for him to finish. When he doesn’t, he chimes in.

“You think Luna would be a better help than me?”

Prompto is quiet for a beat, pressing his face further into Noct’s chest.

“No offense, though.”

Noct laughs shortly, then smoothes a friendly kiss on the top of his head.

“If you think I’m mad at you for confiding in her, you don’t know me at all. She knows how to help people: it’s what she does! I’m sure you two will have it figured out in no time.”

“I’ve never met her, but I feel like I can trust her. You know?”

“I know.”

“I mean, not that I don’t trust you…”

“I  _ know _ .”

Prompto is quiet again before continuing.

“Please tell me I won’t make a fool out of myself.”

Noct pulls him forward and pushes the hair out of his eyes, smile genuine.

“You’ll do fine. And if you don’t, Luna would never talk about you behind your back. Promise.”

And there it is.

Prompto’s smile lights up the room, all white teeth and squinted eyes. It’s like the day has interrupted the night and let the sun come spewing in from the window, shining onto his face and bringing all its warmth with it. Noct’s breath is almost taken away at the sight.

“That’s actually reassuring,” Prompto says. He lays his head back onto Noct’s chest, ear against his heart and one hand moved from his neck to his other pec. Together, they sway to the music, fears and follies forgotten, until the old clock tells them it’s late in the night. When they pull apart and settle in for bed, Noct is the one who drapes himself over Prompto, laying his head into his neck from behind and securing his arms around his belly. And when morning breaks and he opens his eyes, Prompto hasn’t moved an inch since he fell asleep the night before. Noct settles himself closer to his friend, his last thought before drifting back to sleep being that he can help people, too. But only in his own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make Noct touchy-feely because I can. he has so much love to give and deserves all of the gentle touches in return. I see boys I knew in Junior High/High School who are still friends giving one another hugs and saying I love you when they used to be so no homo and my heart swells with affection. I promise, fellas, being soft with dude friends is wholesome and good for you.  
> next chapter has my fave girl in it for realsies!!


	3. Deliverance

When Luna arrives, it’s to great fanfare.

The Citadel holds a welcoming ceremony, one which she is almost late for because of the crowd size, all wanting to express their gratitude and present their ill.

Noct waits at the bottom of the stairs, Ignis by his right side, Prompto to the left. When the motorcade pulls around and to a stop, Gladio approaches from the sidelines and opens the door to her car, offering a hand to help her from the seat.

Grace is the first word that comes to mind. The Queen of Tenebrae is every inch of royalty as her title would suggest, her exit from the car being greeted with raucous applause. From the car behind hers, Ravus approaches and takes her arm, leading her up the stairs.

Noct feels a pull of joy in his stomach. He knows his face is beaming and he can hardly stand still waiting for her to be in front of him. He can see Prompto shuffling nervously beside him, hands twiddling with each other behind his back. Ignis is a pillar of strength as always, and he draws on his calm collectedness to remain professional. When she and Ravus are in front of him, they both bow, and Luna looks him in the eyes, her own twinkling with fondness.

“Greetings, Your Majesty. It has been far too long.”

Gladio takes his place at Prompto’s side. Noct bows first, then the three friends bow simultaneously in greetings.

“Far, far too long,” Noct agrees. He extends a hand and Ravus removes his arm from hers, stepping away and standing beside Ignis. They shake hands and exchange pleasantries, simple greetings of, “General” said back and forth.

Noct takes her hand and kisses it once. When she offers him her other hand, he takes it and presses a polite kiss to either of her cheeks. She moves her hands from his to cup his face, running her thumbs along his beard.

“You look well,” she says, then clasps her hands in front of her. She moves to greet Ignis, pressing a tender hand to his face, then to Prompto. He nervously takes her hand and kisses it like Noct had done, his eyes asking for confirmation from her before she nods.

“You must be Ambassador Argentum,” she smiles, and he looks like he’s having to remind himself to breathe.

“Yeah-- I mean, yes, Your Majesty. That’s me.”

“You needn’t be so formal, dear Prompto. I feel as if we shall be good friends.”

“Me too,” he swallows, bowing once more. She extends a hand and lifts his face up, then takes his right hand in both of hers.

“It is very lovely to finally meet you.”

He’s starstruck. So much so that Noct nudges him with an elbow to get his attention. He startles and returns the gesture, gratefully grasping her hands and bowing several more times. Gladio smiles fondly when she greets him, squeezing her hands with a gentleness Noct rarely sees him exhibit. Noct offers his arm and she takes it, both of them waving to the gathered people and press. The six of them turn and make their way up the stairs and into the Citadel, heavy doors closing behind them.

 

Once they’re out of sight of the cameras, Noct unloops his arm from hers and scoops her beneath her armpits, easily lifting her off the ground and spinning around. She squeals in delight and holds onto his shoulders while he spins, her long, white dress flowing with the movement. He takes care when setting her down, Ravus pulling the bottom of her gown so she won’t step on the end when she lands. They giggle together like children, Luna placing both hands on his upper arms while he holds her by the waist.

“Certainly Your Majesty has grown into his inheritance; I seem to recall King Regis possessing a penchant for spontaneity, not so much his son.”

She rights her crown atop her head and laughs again, Noct leaning inwards and resting his forehead against hers. She closes her eyes, then smiles.

“The Gods have truly blessed us this day. To be reunited under such peaceful circumstances is surely the doing of good fortune.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Noct says.

“And I would agree as well,” Ravus says. Noct lifts his head and sees him standing to the side, politely waiting for an introduction. He turns from the Queen and shakes his hand.

“From darkness blight, you have arisen, my King,” the Tenebraen General says, releasing his grip and bowing. “It does us well to see your city returned to such glory.”

Noct nods, and Ravus turns his eyes to Prompto.

“And you, Ambassador. We meet again on pleasant terms. Let us continue this trend, for the peace and prosperity of both our nations.”

Prompto shakes his outstretched hand, once again nervous. Noct knows he feels desperately out of place here among people raised as or beside royalty, but to his credit he’s yet to put his foot in his mouth. Ravus goes down the line to Gladio, firmly grasping his hand. They don’t exchange pleasantries but Gladio points to his left arm.

“New tech?” he asks, letting their hands drop.

“Indeed. With Tenebrae restored as the center of Eos’ medicinal advancements, our doctors were able to craft a fine replacement for the wretched Magitek apparatus formly in its place. I’m sure you will be happy to know the strength I possess has not waned, however.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, General,” Ignis interjects. Ravus shakes his hand and something passes between them that Noct can’t name. He thinks he sees the General’s gaze linger on the scar grazing Ignis’ left eye, but dismisses it internally.

“You have a fine Citadel, Your Majesty,” Ravus comments, taking in the interior of the lobby. “Would that our next meeting take place in Tenebrae, so that you might see how the Palace has changed since your last visit.”

“It remains as it was,” Lunafreya adds, “Though after the destruction caused by the Niflheim army, many of the artifacts of antiquity have been lost. A tragedy, surely, but one which has brought about a new age of conservation in the nation. Along with continuing advancements in healthcare, we see an ever-growing field of young curators, come to preserve what remains of the times before the Dark Years. I believe they would marvel at the myriad treasures present in your Citadel. We are also host to many of Niflheim’s prized artworks and machines, held on display until such as time as they might reclaim them following their reconstruction efforts.”

“How goes the reconstruction efforts?” Ignis asks Ravus. Ravus looks to Prompto, who starts when they begin walking forward, set on their rooms.

“Have you spoken with the provisional government as of late?” he asks in follow-up.

“Yes,” Prompto begins. “Aranea and I spoke last week, and she claims that they’ve pulled much of the people who fled Gralea back to the capital, and that they have working infrastructure. She and the army are working to get usable resources, leftover from the Keep and old mines. She says it’s hard work, but rewarding to see the citizens regaining hope for their country.”

“I should like to meet Ambassador Highwind,” Lunafreya says. “Perhaps we would learn much from one another in the way of governance.”

“She’s a character,” Gladio adds. “A real hard-head, but understanding when she needs to be.”

They file into the central elevator, Ravus, Ignis, and Gladio in the back, with Noctis, Lunafreya, and Prompto in front. Noct presses the floor number and they shoot upwards, mirrors in the back and on the sides of the elevator reflecting the light from above.

Prompto glances beside him at Luna, who smiles and takes his hand.

“You and I must talk more,” she says quietly, then lets his hand go as gently as she took it.

They reach their floor and the Queen picks up her dress as she walks, Ignis leading the way to their rooms. He unlocks their doors and they’re greeted by Citadel staff members and retainers from Tenebrae alike, nearly finished unpacking despite their recent arrival. Gladio stands outside the door to keep watch.

“We’ll make sure your stays are comfortable,” Noct says, addressing both Luna and Ravus. Their rooms, like his and Ignis’, and Prompto’s and Gladio’s, have a door which joins them. It’s open now, as servants move back and forth to place belongings in the respective areas. Noct notes how a vase of sylleblossoms has already been set out onto a table. “There’s always someone on-call if you need anything.”

Ravus has moved next door to his room, and Lunafreya is looking at the furniture of hers.

“Has the garden changed since our youth?” she asks, turning to Noct. “I am sure the plants there suffered greatly after the fall with no one to care for them.”

“The garden is pretty much the same, if you can believe it,” Prompto answers, and their eyes turn on him in surprise. “At least, if it’s anything like how Noct described it. I only know what I’ve heard, and what I see now.”

“We will have to see,” she says, fluffing out the petals of one of the sylleblossoms. “For now, I should like to settle and unpack.”

She turns to the three of them and bows at Noct, who bows back.

“I look forward to our meetings and musings, gentlemen and Your Majesty.”

They leave, Gladio moving from his post and walking with them back to the elevator.

“I’ve got work at the barracks, so I’ll catch you guys later,” he says, gesturing towards the direction of the Glaives.

“And I as well,” Ignis adds. They stand outside the elevator, Ignis by Gladio, Prompto by Noct.

“What’ve you got goin’ on?” Gladio asks Prompto.

“Nothing, really. Finished all my stuff for today. I might go for a run, do some target practice.”

“Make sure you go see Lunafreya sometime during her visit,” the Shield replies. Prompto’s eyebrows furrow in a question.

“She seemed eager to speak with you,” Ignis says, hand to his chin. “Despite having never previously made your acquaintance.”

“Maybe it’s a blond thing,” Gladio muses.

“I agree with Gladio and Iggy,” Noct says, turning to his friend. “Talking to Luna can’t be anything but enlightening. You see how we get along.”

“If the Queen of a sovereign nation allows someone to hoist her up and spin her about, then you’re in good hands,” Ignis quips.

Prompto, meanwhile, is on the verge of smiling and running away. He hasn’t decided which one he wants to do more.

“I’ll catch you guys later,” he says, turning and walking off in the opposite direction. Noct stares after him, the beginnings of contentedness settling in his stomach.

 

It’s several days before Prompto gets the chance to speak with Luna. Every day since her arrival in Insomnia, she’s gone out to greet and bless people, assuaging their fears that the Gods might never return.

“As long as your King holds the light of the Crystal within him, the Gods continue to live among us, in the form of your neighbor, your city, and your nation,” she had said in an address, met with thunderous applause. “The Scourge which has wracked our bodies and our land shall never again return to do us harm. You have my word, as Oracle and Queen of Tenebrae.”

Her powers as Oracle, it seems, faded to almost nothing while Noct slept within the Crystal. But when he emerged, the heart of the Blessed Stone within his own core, her powers returned and allow her to continue to heal the sick and wounded despite the death of some, and absence of all of the Six.

It’s after hours one evening and the Citadel is all but empty. It’s Sunday, and the sun is setting in the East, the last orange glow fading into the horizon. Prompto is walking the halls, clearing his head for coming week, when he sees a flash of white in the corner of one eye. He whirls around, and finds nothing. Slowly, he creeps towards the corner it came from, hand ready at his side. He looks past the corner and sees a brief white spot disappear down the end of the hall.

He breaks into a sprint, intent on following the white sprite. After five minutes and hundreds of stairs, he realizes he’s headed the direction of Noct’s room. He follows and follows, catching glimpses of what he thinks is a dog leading him through the Citadel. He finally stops to catch his breath, hands planted on his knees, when he hears the unmistakable sound of a bark. He looks up, and sees what’s indeed a white dog, black marks on its face.

“Pryna…?” he asks, and the dog barks again in what seems like assent. She disappears down a hallway and he’s still out of breath. He follows her anyways, the burning in his lungs growing increasingly painful. He stops after a few minutes and slumps against the wall, butt hitting the ground unceremoniously. She reappears a moment later, trotting over to him and licking his face.

“Hey girl,” he says, rubbing her ears and smoothing her whiskers. “You’re not so tiny anymore, huh?”

He takes several minutes to regain his breath, Pryna sitting by his side and letting him stroke her fur. When he’s sure he can walk without dying or hyperventilating, he follows her up several more flights of stairs. He’s had to pull out his keycard more times than he can count so he keeps it tucked into his glove for easy access. When they reach the floor with Noct’s room, Pryna doesn’t go to his door, but rather down to the left and up to another one. Prompto approaches it slowly, wondering if Pryna’s mixed up her locations. But she hasn’t, he knows. On the door is a single blue flower, with a small plaque reading  _ Nox Fleuret  _ below it.

He raps on the door lightly with his knuckles, thinking about turning around and high-tailing it out of there. There’s no answer, and he decides she’s not in. But before he turns around to leave, he looks at the keycard in his hand, all smooth silver, slightly sweaty from his palm. Without thinking, he swipes it at the reade. The light flashes green. Slowly, he pulls down on the door handle, pushing it forward until it’s open. Pryna trots past him and into the room, and when he opens the door all the way, he sees that she’s settled at the foot of her owner, Lunafreya, Queen of Tenebrae.

She’s sitting by the window, curtains drawn, and is gazing at the city. She’s wearing a white, sleeveless gown, with chunky white heels and a small belt around her waist. He thinks it looks familiar from some of the photos he’s seen of her before Insomnia’s fall.

She turns her head from the window to see him standing there, and instead of alarm, she smiles sweetly and stretches a hand towards him, offering him the comfort he so desperately needs. Prompto all but runs into the room and falls at her feet, resting his forehead against her drawn knees. He folds his arms into her lap and rests his head on them, taking in the sweet perfume of the sylleblossoms hanging in her room like dazzling blue lights.

He nearly chokes when he feels a hand rest on his head, so gentle and soft as it strokes through his hair. He doesn’t care that he’s basically just run a marathon and is sweating in rivulets, or that he’s seen the woman before him dead in his dreams a hundred times or more, consumed by the waves of the Tidemother. Her presence is like nothing he’s felt before, and he’s drawn to her, like a moth to a light. Except he knows that this light will not hurt him. This light shines brighter than the sun, and is just as warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters are quite short but they'll fill out eventually, you have my word!


	4. On Earth

He’s thinks he’s nearly fallen asleep when the hand in his hair pets him two times quickly to get his attention. He looks up from his arms to see Luna smiling at him, moonlight washing over her features.

“I’ve waited for the chance to speak with you,” she starts. “For a  _ very _ long time. Little do you know, the joy you’ve brought Noctis has brought me untold amounts of happiness throughout my life. You have my thanks, forever and always, Prompto Argentum.”

He says nothing, just stares, and Luna laughs when she strokes one of his cheeks.

“Please don’t cry. Your heart tells me you’ve done far too much of that on my behalf already.”

He realizes she’s wiped away a tear he didn’t know he was shedding. Self-conscious, he moves his arms from her lap and wipes his face, forcing himself under control. There’s something about her that makes him want to be open and it seems to be working against him in the present moment. He wants to say everything but can actually say nothing.

“I, um,” he starts. He laughs at himself, takes a breath, then looks up to meet her eyes.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time, too. Like forever, actually. Since I was about eight,” he admits, sniffing. She reaches to the window sill and offers him a tissue, which he takes gratefully. Pryna is resting her head in her paws, but she stands and walks to the door, pushing it closed with her nose and jumping up to reach the light switch. It flicks on and the room lights up. He catches sight of himself in a mirror and realizes, with thanks, that he doesn’t look like the mess he feels he must.

Luna stands and Prompto leans back on his haunches, watching where she walks. She beckons him towards her and he stands, following her to the plush sofa in the center of the room. She sits and begins removing her heels, setting them to the side. He sits beside her, stiff and unsure at first, but reminds himself to relax.

“It’s just like talking with Noct,” he tells himself. “Except a girl and way prettier, and magical and cool in a way that he’s not. And his fianc ee at one point.”

That only barely helps him relax.

“This conversation has been coming for some time now,” she states, nodding. “Time and circumstance have kept us apart, but know that I have kept you in my prayers, ever since Noct sent me a photo of you two together.”

Prompto scratches the back of his head nervously, a wobbly grin crossing his face.

“I do my hair a lot better now, huh?”

“I like it either way,” she says, brushing a loose strand from his face. “It’s very you. And you are very much as I imagined you to be.”

“You’re a lot prettier in person,” he says, then almost regrets it. Her smiles makes it worth it, though.

“I gotta admit, I’m still super nervous. Even though you’re sitting in front of me and everything, I can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re  _ here _ . In Insomnia.”

“Destiny hasn’t brought me here for many years,” she agrees. “I am relieved to see how it has recovered since last I was here.”

“When were you last here?” he asks. “During the invasion?”

“Yes. If you recall, I had been sent for by Regis’ Kingsglaive to join Noctis in Altissia, where we could be wed far from the grasp of the Empire. Unfortunately, Niflheim had already infiltrated the ranks and killed the one of the order sent to find me. I was taken here, to the Citadel, then used as bait to draw the Glaives from the signing ceremony.”

She looks down at her hands, then back up to Prompto.

“Many Glaives died that day, some protecting the Empire, but far too many fighting for Insomnia. The numbers of the perished are a harrowing count, indeed.”

Her eyes move away from Prompto’s and to the coffee table, where a vase of sylleblossoms sits. Prompto takes a moment before speaking up.

“Libertus told me all about that day before he went back to Galahd. How he and you sped out of the city in one of Noct’s fancy cars.”

He smiles slightly, and Luna catches it and smiles back.

“Said you sure know how to gun it for someone who's never driven before.”

“It was all his instruction,” she concedes. “He’ll be happy to know I’ve since learned how to drive and pilot aircraft. Tenebrae is not navigable by car, but aircraft have plenty of room to float between islands.”

“Islands?” Prompto asks.

“Tenebrae is comprised of many floating structures, all connected by bridges.”

She reaches for his hands and holds them, stars in her eyes.

“I forget you have never been to my homeland. I pray you will be able to experience it someday. Should you or anyone you know be in need of healing, the doctors of Tenebrae are some of the best in all of Eos, though I hope your reason for visiting will not be illness.”

She doesn’t let go of his hands and he’s grateful. He gently squeezes them, avoiding her eyes. She squeezes back and moves her head, trying to get him to look at her.

“Are you ill, Prompto?”

“Not physically, no,” he admits, swallowing dryly. He looks up and sees her concern. She scoots closer to him and touches their knees.

“Please,” she says. “Tell me your woes.”

Prompto takes a deep breath, looks at her for confirmation, and does just that.

It takes him a lot of time to get through it all, starting with living so far from everyone in the Citadel, and moving through the stresses of his role as Ambassador.

“It’s all so crazy,” he confesses. “I’m supposed to be this great link between Niflheim and us, but I don’t feel like I do very much, or that I’m not trying hard enough. Aranea knows what she’s doing, and she didn’t even want the position. But she cares for her people and her country. Not that I don’t care for mine, but she’s so capable, and I’m… not.”

He’s moving his thumbs up and down, and when he realizes it’s her hands he’s been rubbing he nervously takes them back and folds them into his own lap.

“I think it’s what’s messing with my sleep at night. Knowing that I could be doing so much more.”

He pushes his palms to his eyes and rubs them tiredly, the weight of these confessions leaving him all but exhausted. “And not to mention the weird dreams I’ve been having. They don’t make any sense to me when I’m asleep, and definitely not when I’m awake. I’m always thinking, _ I need to figure out what these mean, _ but when I focus too hard I get scared. I get scared they’re going to come true.”

He realizes he’s been monologuing and looks up from his lap. She’s listening intently, he can tell. He suddenly can’t remember everything he’s just told her and wishes he’d been paying half as much attention as she is to the words coming from his mouth. Thankfully, she’s got questions to help him get back on track.

“Have you considered,” she begins. “Reconsidering your position within the government? I understand your obligation to be active in the monarchy, but perhaps you’re better suited for another title.”

He doesn’t answer that. How could he? It’s a position he asked for, and backing down now would lead to more questions than he’s got answers for.

He feels bad when she readjusts herself, content with no answer.

“Let us breach another subject. I believe these dreams you mentioned may be the cause of much of your trepidation.”

“What, like I’m avoiding stuff because of them?”

“Perhaps unconsciously. If they indeed cause you stress in your waking life, then that very well may translate to you taking steps within your subconscious to prevent them, however detrimental they might be. Your fear is holding you back.”

He worries his bottom lip, the uneasy feeling in his gut growing larger.

“Your task, then,” she finishes. “Is to decipher exactly what it is you fear, and make the connection as to whether what you do and do not do will cause these events to occur.”

“What I’m seeing is from the past,” he blurts, then feels his face burn red with embarrassment. He continues anyways.

“Or maybe the future? Either way, it’s things that can’t happen. That much I know.”

Her eyebrows are drawn together.

“How can you be certain?”

Now he wishes he didn’t open his mouth at all.

“I see… people dying. And all kinds of Magitek tech that we never encountered, before or after Noct went into the Crystal.”

When she doesn’t respond, he elaborates, cautiously.

“The one that I have most often is of Altissia. When we finally made it there on King Regis’ boat, and you summoned Leviathan. Do you remember?”

She nods. He continues.

“And everything is the same. The Empire comes in, Leviathan destroys most of the city, Titan comes to stop her…”

He takes a heavy breath.

“Ardyn shows up, and I don’t see what happens, but I know he does something terrible. Because next thing I know, I see him fly away in his ship, and neither you or Noct are moving.”

Gently, not raising his eyes, he takes one of her hands in his.

“I get pulled away by Gladio, and we get seperated from Iggy. That’s what really happened, I know. But then it gets weird. We make our way to where he says he is, and by the time we get there… he’s laying on the ground, all burned up. Like really, really burned. His face and his arms are…”

He feels his throat close and swallows several times to clear it up.

“And Noct is there, but he’s out cold. And you and Ravus are gone.”

He looks up, a fat, hot tear rolling down his cheek.

“And then everything goes wrong from there. Iggy goes blind, Noct and Gladio start fighting, and I don’t understand what’s happening, but I get seperated from them, and…”

He can barely talk now, his face wet and hands shaking.

“So much goes on, and it all seems so real, and I think they’re all connected but I don’t know how.”

His breathing is heavy and he forces himself to try and calm down. She reaches for the tissue box again and hands him several sheets, and he doesn’t care how gross he looks blowing his nose into them. The pressure is too much, and if he doesn’t finish now he knows he’ll never talk about it again.

“Instead of Ravus taking us to rescue Iggy in Gralea, he stays with us and we take a train there, but Ardyn tricks Noct into thinking I’m him, and he pushes me off the top of the train. And I somehow end up in Niflheim.”

He sniffs, waving a hand for emphasis when he speaks.

“And I don’t know how I know it’s Niflheim because I’ve never been there! I’ve never been outside of where Ardyn took Iggy and the Crystal. But Aranea is there, and we find out some stuff about the Magitek. Bad, bad stuff. Like how they use human souls to make the MTs, and even the scientist,-- the one with the weird hair? Yeah, he’s fused his soul with some kind of daemon tech, so when he dies, it activates this machine that swallows the world, or something.”

He catches his breath, realizes he’s monologuing again, but lets himself talk.

“Arenea and I take it down, and I try to make my way to Tenebrae.”

He looks at her somewhat apologetically.

“That’s where she said they guys’d be. But Ardyn stops me, and before I know it, I’m stuck up on this big metal rack for who knows how long. All I can see are the bars of the cell I’m in, and I can feel the steel pinching my skin, digging into where I’ve rubbed it raw trying to get out. Well, eventually, Noct and the others come and save me, tell me we’re in Zegnautus, and they’re there for the Crystal. They say… that Ravus is dead. Cut down by daemons. Which, were apparently sent by the Emperor, because we find out he’s a daemon, too.”

He knows how ridiculous this has got to sound.

“But before that, I see myself take off my glove, and open doors with this barcode printed on my wrist. Like an MT. And I expect the guys to be mad, to think I’ve betrayed them… but they’re not. We just keep adventuring together, me helping Iggy along, until Noct gets pulled into the Crystal against his will. Then everything gets dark, pretty much the same as what happened to us here. Except…”

He trails off, afraid to speak. Luna grips his hand tightly and he looks up to see her staring intently, eyes wide and slightly wet.

“What happens?” she whispers, and he hears something he’s never heard from her before: fear. She’s afraid because of his dreams.

“Except, I don’t know what happens next,” he admits, voice wavering. “The dream never finishes.”

She slowly leans back, her posture deflated. He’s scared he’s broken her trust, made her feel like he’s sick in a way she can’t heal. And suddenly, he hates himself for even burderning her in the first place. But, as quickly as she looked lost, she regains her posture, looking him in the eyes.

“Before I say what I believe it is you’re seeing, may I ask a favor?”

It’s not the response he expects, but he nods in agreement anyways.

“This barcode you see, does it exist? On your person, currently.”

He feels himself freeze, like a deer lost in headlights. She shifts in her seat, intent on an answer.

“It’s very important I know.”

For a minute, all he does is stare.  _ You can trust Luna _ , he tells himself. But repeating it doesn’t make him any less terrified. He finally looks away from her eyes, exhaling in defeat. Slowly, slightly hoping she’ll tell him to just forget it, he takes off his glove and unsnaps the bracelet on his right wrist. He pulls up the cuff of his jacket and turns his hand outward towards her, revealing the dark marks just above his hand. She reaches a hand out and touches a single finger to the barcode printed there. As if he was going to pull away, she takes his hand in both of hers and holds in, pleading with him with her eyes.

“This doesn’t make you any less of a Lucian,” she asserts. He squeezes his eyes shut against the burning tears pooling there.

“But it does,” he croaks in response. His throat feels dry as dirt. “I’m one of them, I’m an MT.”

“No,” she states, then again more defiantly. “No, Prompto, you are not. You said it yourself: the MT’s are corrupted versions of human souls, bound to daemons to fill metal suits. They lacked the will to escape their fate, but you do not. You are your own man, and as we are to believe that we have achieved a different fate than what may have come to pass, then we are to believe in that truth as well.”

He feels his heart squeeze in sadness, hearing her argument but not grasping it.

“But you died, Luna. Ravus wasn’t able to save you, and he died, too. Iggy used the Ring just like he actually did but this time it didn’t work as well. He lost his eyesight because of it-- because we weren’t quick enough, or Ardyn had enough time to get the upper hand. Why?”

He puts his head in his hands, the real cause of his troubles burning at the tip of his tongue. The infernal question.

“Why did things go so differently than what I’m seeing? Were we supposed to get hurt? To suffer and die? And for what reason? Why am I seeing things from a different timeline?”

It takes him some time, but something clicks in his brain. His anguish lets up for just a second, and realization dawns, if only partially. He straightens up, slightly sobered, and finds her eyes.

“Maybe…” he starts, and her eyes are intense on his. “Maybe someone is trying to tell us something. To be grateful for what we have by showing us how easily things could have been different.”

Luna is quiet, and he looks away to the sylleblossoms on the table.

“Is that what this is? Not some sign of bad things to come, but a reminder that things could’ve been so much worse…?”

He snaps his eyes back to her and finds her looking at him still.

“Luna,” he says quietly. “Can people see the future? Can they see what may happen, and work to change it?”

It’s then that Pryna gets up from where she’s been sitting across the room and approaches Luna. She tilts her head, then gives her owner’s hand a single lick. From the corner of his eye, Prompto sees a dark blur, then another furry dog come to his owner’s aid. It’s Umbra, and he sits on his behind beside Pryna, who nudges Luna’s hand with her snout. Luna pets it softly, eyes distant with worry. He hadn’t even seen Umbra in the room, or since he’d been the messenger for Noct and Luna’s notebook.

Messenger. Who was sending these messages?

He stares at her for what seems like hours, watching her eyes dart back and forth. She’s thinking, he realizes. Putting it all together in a way only the Oracle, direct servant of the Gods, can do. She finally looks at him, pale blue eyes sad in a way he’s never seen before.

“Perhaps,” is her answer. He feels disappointed, that his expectations have been let down. He doesn’t anticipate what she says next, however.

“I believe that, perhaps some of us are blessed to recognize signs of trouble, and divine callings can be used to spur us into action. King Regis being one such man.”

He feels his eyebrows tighten, and it’s then that he learns of the Omen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the upcoming chapters are much longer than these ones have been, so stay tuned!


	5. As It Is In Heaven

Long ago, when Noctis was chosen by the Crystal to be its Champion, King Regis received a vision from the god Bahamut, telling him of things to come. Luna only knows of his vision from reading a letter from Regis to her Mother, Sylva, after she had seen it sitting on her writing desk.

“It wasn’t purely by accident she had left it open,” Luna says, remembering her childhood. “She had been contemplating her role as Oracle, with the Chosen King emerging in her lifetime. She and King Regis had always confided in one another, especially so after the death of Noctis’ mother.”

Prompto thinks about Noct’s Mom, and how he’s never really mentioned her before. Just his Dad.

“Noct didn’t really know his Mom, huh?” he asks, feeling sympathy for his friend.

“No, he was far too young when Aulea passed. His father certainly remembered, and it was his unwavering loyalty to her and Noctis which endeared him to my own Mother so.”

Umbra whines and Luna pets the top of his head.

“In his vision, King Regis saw many things which have come to pass, and many things which did not thanks to his intervention. In a specific example, he stated that Noctis embarked upon the roads alone in the Regalia: no Shield, no Advisor, and no best friend. Of course, he knew not of the friends his son would come to make. But what he did recognize, in his wisdom, was how easily misled his son was to become without guidance. How many bad fortunes would befall him were he alone in this world, outside the protection of himself and the Crownsguard. In addition, he foresaw the rise of the Magitek, and the corruption of the Gods.”

She pats Umbra tentatively here. He licks her hand in what seems to be an apology.

“To summarize, were the Chosen King left alone, his enemies would easily learn to manipulate him, and ultimately bring about the demise of this world: the rise of Niflheim’s army to conquer the nations, and perhaps most concerning of all, upon the death of the Oracle, the devouring of humanity by the Scourge, unfettered by divine intervention.”

The way she says, “death of the Oracle,” so intimately tells him that she doesn’t mean her Mother, Sylva. He looks down at Pryna. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she’s sad, eyes drawn upwards and looking misty. Umbra has his eyes closed, relishing in the attention.

“In conclusion, although it may take one years to interpret the symbols and their meanings, humanity can and has received visions of the future, though likely only with aid from the Six.”

“You’re saying that King Regis didn’t understand the vision from Bahamut?”

“It is very likely, given his wording. For how could he have foretold the advances of the Magitek infantry without having seen the Chancellor’s plans to reassume control of Solheim technology? As you have no doubt experienced from your brief time in Gralea, the former Empire of Niflheim was very secretive about their military tactics. Though from your visions, the extent of the which may be far more sinister than we’ve ever been previously told.”

“So you think what I saw is actually real? That the Niffs really had the technology to clone humans and turn them… turn them into daemons?”

“We would be remiss not to consider it. The fact that your dreams remain consistent each night is the strongest sign yet that they are not simply fictions of your mind. What you may be experiencing are visions from your potential future, as King Regis did so long ago with help from the Crystal.”

“But,” Prompto asks. “Why me? I mean, I don’t mean that in a self-pitying kind of way. I’m not royalty, and I’ve never been blessed by the Gods. I’ve only seen the Crystal once, when Noct used it to heal Iggy’s eyes. Noct hasn’t said anything about weird dreams; neither has Iggy, or Gladio.”

“Have you asked them?”

He falls silent, slightly embarrassed. She understands him without his answer, however.

“Perhaps they simply believe these visions to be dreams, nothing more than falsities created by their minds during slumber. You ought to tell them, Prompto. Tell them what you have seen, if only to set your mind at ease.”

He feels a lump of shame form in his throat, and does his best to push it down.

She thanks him for his time and he takes it as his cue to leave. Before he exits the room, Luna stands and addresses him. Without her heels, she’s shorter than him, and bathed in moonlight, she looks pleasantly human, a vision far from the idea of her he’s had in his head up until now.

“We will talk again,” she promises him, a pillar of grace and wisdom even through the tiredness in her eyes. “And you will see, that no matter the gravity of your woes, you will never have to face them alone.”

Those last words haunt his mind. He wishes he could say haunt not in a bad way, but they swim in circles in his head for hours after he leaves Luna’s room.

 

In the parking garage, the security guards check his ID and badge, then wave him through. He sits in his car and rests his head on the steering wheel, the engine’s low purr vibrating throughout his body. It’s calming.

He was initially reluctant to take a city-issued car but it was out of his and even Noctis’ hands. As an important member of the new government of Insomnia, it was mandatory that he drive a car that passed their safety standards. His ride is no Regalia but it is comfortable and safe. He did manage to get Cindy in as his main mechanic, not a Crown City-issued one, and it makes him feel more at home in the flashy machine knowing that a common person works on it. Not that Cindy is common in any way besides birth, but that’s what’s so attractive about her personality: a commoner with an uncommon love for cars and manual labor.

He lifts his head from the wheel and pulls the keys from the ignition, stepping out and locking the doors. He passes by the guards and they give him a curious look.

“Forgot something,” he explains lamely, and they let him pass without a comment.

In the quiet of the morning, the halls are almost too open. He takes the elevator this time, his footsteps echoing along the tile floor. How many people walked these halls and are dead now? How many pairs of boots have run down here, seeking to protect their monarch? How many have seen spectral dogs running around, their claws hitting the ground in a rhythmic  _ click click click _ ?

It’s late and he knows it. But there’s no way he can go to sleep with all of this in his head. He stops in front of a door, knocks twice, and is met with silence. He knocks again. Still quiet.

A little ways down, a different door opens and Ignis appears in the hall, looking his direction. He feels awkward here, calling on the King when he knows he’s almost certainly asleep. Ignis simply looks at him, face unreadable.

“Anything I can help you with?” he asks, seeking to be helpful. Same old Iggy.

“Bet Noct’s asleep, huh?” he replies. Ignis hums in response. He nods, then looks at his feet.

“I’ll stop by tomorrow, then.”

It feels like an excuse. It is, he realizes. An excuse to pretend that none of this is happening, that no one needs to know about this besides he and Luna. That the Gods, however and whatever they’re doing, limit the problem to that area of space, scented with flowers from a faraway land. He looks up and Ignis is still there, studying him. He steps to the doorway of his room and Prompto expects to hear a good night, but he stands before the entrance and makes a welcoming gesture. Prompto hesitates, but his feet take him forward. Before he knows it he’s standing in Ignis’ room, the sound of the door closing behind him carrying a sense of finality.

“Have a seat,” he hears the General say, and he follows the instruction, somehow grateful for the structure his old friend always presents. A sense of direction is nice every now and again.

Ignis pulls the chair from behind his heavy wooden desk and sets it in front of the one Prompto occupies, crossing his long legs in front of him.

“You’re up late,” he says after a minute of silence. Ignis nods.

“I’m finishing some paperwork for tomorrow’s meetings. I try to avoid making a habit of it.”

He doesn’t know what he’s saying when he speaks.

“Noct distracting you?”

Ignis looks slightly confused.

“Why would you think that?”

“That’s how it’s always been, I guess. You need to get stuff done, Noct wants your attention, then you have to play catch-up because you can’t tell him no.”

It sounds like an accusation, but Ignis cracks a smile in response, looking like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Have I become so predictable?”

“You’ve always been predictable. It’s nice, though.”

He’s grateful for the icebreaker. It’s not that he and Ignis never got along, but he’s always felt like a Freshman standing beside a PhD graduate. The number of years between them may be small but it seems to make a whole world of difference, an invisible barrier neither of them can cross. Luckily, Ignis is either so used to social interaction that keeping a conversation going comes naturally, or he’s so in-tune to the atmosphere that he knows Prompto is incapable of speaking on his own right now.

“His Majesty retired rather late tonight, so he’s likely unrousable in the current moment,” he states, running a hand over his hair. “But if there’s something I can do, I’d be more than willing to assist.”

Prompto is so close to keeping it in. All he has to say is, “I’m fine, really,” and go home. That’s the reasonable thing to do, anyway.

But when has he ever been reasonable with his emotions?   
“Have you ever dreamt something so real you’re confused when it’s not?” he asks aloud, not looking him in the eyes. He glances up, however, and sees Ignis watching him.

“Of course,” he answers, and the reply is so placid it makes Prompto sick. “It’s a sign of a good night’s rest.”

“No, not like that,” he sighs, then feels bad when Ignis shifts, a look of surprise on his face. He feels like an asshole for not explaining himself right and expecting others to know what he means. He continues anyways.

“I mean, not like any old dream. Like, a dream that you think should be real, but reality is so much different. And it’s not like you want it to be different, but you feel like you somehow cheated the universe. That you were supposed to give it something, but didn’t. I think.”

The more he talks, the more he deflates. Talking about it with Luna was so much easier. Maybe it’s because he didn’t spend almost a year crammed in tight quarters with her.

It’s weirdly quiet and he finds Ignis’ eyes. He has a hand to his face and his head is tilted, a look of great concentration crossing his features.

It takes him a minute, but Prompto connects it in his head: of course he has.

“I, uh. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course you have, I just…”

He shrugs, the explanation falling flat.

“I’m just gonna…”

He gets up to leave, to absolve himself of this conversation, but he feels a hand on his wrist, gently touching his skin. Ignis’ eyes, behind their scars and guards, are telling him to stay.

“What are you seeing?” is all he asks, and the tone of his voice breaks Prompto’s heart for the second time tonight, shattering it in half. All these dreams have been doing is causing pain.

He slowly sits back down, not leaving the General’s gaze.

He recounts just like he did for Luna, the story not so heavy the second time around. It seems clearer now that he’s put it into words not a couple of hours before, the pieces of the timeline reconstructing in his mind.

Ignis doesn’t interject once, listening intently from his chair. It’s almost eerie how still he sits, eyes trained on Prompto’s movements. When he finishes, Ignis uncrosses his legs and recrosses them the other way, folding his hands in his lap.

“Why is this the first time it’s come to my attention?” he genuinely inquires. “Prompto, this is a serious affliction, and one so pertinent to the Crown.”

“How?” he asks, and it’s defensive. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it. “They’re just dreams.”

Ignis gives him a chastising look, and it infuriates him for a split second before he realizes just who he’s talking to. He sits back in his seat, lifting his hands defeatedly.

“How? It’s not like what I’m seeing can come true, anyways. We’re the age we were when we left with Noct, and the Crystal was still in Ardyn’s hand. We’re older, and Ardyn is dead. Plus, I’m not royalty. I’m not the King or the Oracle: I’m just me. Simple, uncomplicated Prompto.”

Uncomplicated wasn’t the word for it. He’d left out the part about his barcode and the apparent meaning behind it. Which meant leaving out much of Aranea’s involvement in the dreams as well.

“While that is true, these visions include not one but all of us. You can expect my involvement when it concerns the loss of my eyesight.”

He hadn’t thought of that. Ignis was so close to going blind, to losing his life due to the Ring’s power. He’d kept the whole situation close to his chest, only telling them what they needed to know. If he told Noct more about it than himself or Gladio, Prompto wouldn’t be surprised. But he felt there were still some things the General never said aloud.

“I don’t know why I would be seeing these, out of all of us.”

He remembers Luna’s words, and meets his friend’s green eyes.

“Have you had dreams like that before?”

If Prompto looks close, he can see his shoulders stiffen. He’s visibly uncomfortable, looking like he’s going to push his glasses further up his nose before realizing he’s not wearing them. A habit of his.

“I’ve seen… things before. Not unlike your dreams. But how they came to me is far different.”

“How so?”

His interest is piqued now and he leans forward. Ignis sighs and leans in as well, placing both feet on the ground.

“When I equipped myself with the Ring of the Lucii back in Altissia, I saw flashes. Brief moments of things I’ve never seen before, and things which hadn’t happened yet, in all likelihood. They appeared in my head like a small cinema, blocking out all other thoughts.”

“That’s kinda how I feel,” he admits. “What did you see?”

“Chief among them was Noctis’ death. Impaled upon his father’s throne, struck down by the ghost of Regis himself. It was then that he defeated the Chancellor and brought back the Light from the afterlife, sacrificing himself for the good of all. A rather tragic ending for the Chosen King.”

“That’s what I’ve never been able to figure out,” he says. “Didn’t the prophecy say something about the Chosen King having to die to ‘rid the cosmos of the Usurper’ or something? I remember reading it in the Cosmogony a couple years back, but it was after Noct restored the light. Did the prophecy change, or did we change it? When did it happen?”

Ignis pauses, obviously hesitant.

“You may have me to hold accountable.”

“What?”

“Whether the accountability will come in the form of thanks or a curse is yet to be seen. But I own it nevertheless.”

He touches the scar on his eyelid as if activating some memory. Like the day of the Leviathan is stored there, deep in his skin.

"I was the first to come across Lady Lunafreya and Noctis. Ravus was there, and he thought his sister had perished protecting Noct from the watery onslaught. I managed to quell his anger, and soon after Ardyn came upon us, assuming the shape of Gladiolus.”

“…You never told us that.”

“It was not important at the time. Had Ravus not been there, I may have been done for.”

He waits, and when Prompto doesn’t say anything, continues.

“He disabled Ravus, and he and I fought. I felt I had the upper hand when he disarmed me, dark magic readied in his palm. But then, he offered me a choice: to stay here, or to follow him the Gralea. I bid my time as Ravus absconded with Lunafreya, and only answered once he was free. This was the decision which altered the course of our history, I believe. Had I stayed and used the Ring then, there would have been no Crystal to heal my sight, and the Lady Lunafreya may very well have perished, as in your visions.”

Prompto is silent. Ignis looks like he expects an answer, so he says whatever comes to mind.

“It makes sense,” he replies, and it sounds insufficient as an answer to their revelation.

“We’ve no way of telling for sure,” Ignis adds. “But it is our best scenario.”

“So in this… version, we travel to Gralea by train, and you’re completely blind. Noct mistakes Ardyn for me, and you guys come rescue me only to lose Noct.”

“As seen in your dreams.”

“Then the Dark Years happen, and we get Noct back, but he dies defeating Ardyn.”   
“So it would seem.”

Prompto chews his lip. “But why would Noct be alone in this reality? Where were we, and Ravus, too? Shouldn’t somebody have stopped him? Taken his place so he didn’t have to die?”

He feels heavy with emotion.

“That’s our job, right? To protect Noct against everything? Where did we go wrong?”

“The point is not where we went wrong, but where we went right,” Ignis corrects, and Prompto looks to him for clarification.

“Because I chose to sacrifice myself in the place of Noctis, he was granted the gift of life. What he chose to do with his life was to save mine in return. The weight of his responsibilities rested fully upon his shoulders, so to speak, and in taking control of the situation he was able to absorb the full power of the Crystal. Amazing, how a two-thousand year old prophecy could be overturned by one simple decision.”

He breathes, then continues, seemingly giving voice to his stream of consciousness.

“I was very much willing, and fully prepared, to die for him. As to prevent the terrible visions flashing through my mind. I would’ve done anything to ensure his safety.”

“You did do anything,” Prompto says, looking at his feet. “And everything. I never really thought about how different things could’ve been. You could be blind, and Noct could be dead. Or you could be dead, and Noct, too. Luna could’ve easily died, and Ravus, eventually.”

He buries his face in his hands.

“Things could’ve been so bad.”

He lets himself have this moment of black, free from having to see the world for just a moment. He drags his hands down his cheeks, then sniffs once. Ignis stares at something behind him.

“I’ve never said this,” he says, and sees his friend’s head turn towards him to listen. “But… thanks, Iggy. For saving Noct. I don’t know what we’d be doing without him around.”

He takes a chance and looks up. Ignis looks shocked, a frown following his expression.

“There’s no need to thank me. Noctis has been and always will be the reason for my life. Without him, I am nothing.”

This confession is something so deep and intimate that Prompto doesn’t know if he should be hearing it. He doesn’t have a chance to dwell on it, thankfully, because Ignis changes the subject.

“Perhaps we should bring this to Gladio’s attention. And the Queen as well. We will need to tell Noctis, but not before we know the full extent of the visions. I fear we may be missing pieces of the puzzle, key to solving this strange, alternate reality.”

“We could always use Umbra,” Prompto suggests, and Ignis’ eyebrows crease in disappointment. He gets up from his chair and walks to the window, looking out at the city below.

“With the Gods at rest, there’s no ensuring Umbra can transport us back in time, let alone to a reality which never occurred. Say we were to accomplish that: would he have the ability to bring us back to the present? And if we travel to this morbid timeline, who is to say we won’t alter the future, making this moment in time much more different than what it already is?”

He puts a hand to his chin, back to Prompto.

“We must consider all our options before crafting a plan.”

“Was just a suggestion,” Prompto mumbles. He considers telling Ignis about what happened at the lab, and how he’s actually a Magitek clone. But saying that would make it true and he’s not sure he’s ready to really face that reality, despite Luna’s reassurances. Not yet. Instead, he mentions how he’s already spoken with Luna, who said nothing about seeing these visions or having strange dreams herself.

“She said it’s possible for some people to see the future,” he recounts. “King Regis did, apparently. And that’s why you, Gladio and I are Noct’s friends. Well, you, I guess. Gladio and I came afterwards, and not because of Noct’s dad. We were more of a bonus pack. A buy-one-get-two deal.”

Ignis snorts and turns to face him.

“And how lucky we were to catch the sale.”

He leans on the back of the chair and studies Prompto, a question on his face that he chooses not to give life.

“Perhaps it’s your involvement with Noct which grants you access to these visions,” he says instead. “His magic is incredibly potent, and now with the both the Crystal and the Ring in his care, his connection to the Gods is near limitless. By being so closely connected to him, you receive prophetic dreams on his behalf. Ones that we may not be able to interpret, but he may.”

He stops, then breathes out.

“But, the hour is late. We should rest and meditate on what we’ve learned this night.”

He rounds the chair and stands in front of Prompto, putting his hands on either of his shoulders.

“Every detail is important. If you receive more of these visions, it’s crucial you record and remember them.”

Prompto nods, voicing his agreement.

“I’ll let you know if something else comes up. You’ll be the first to know.”


	6. Interference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it was raining today where I am, which is a cause for celebration. enjoy this spontaneous update in reverence to the changing seasons!

Prompto does have more dreams that night, but they’re of something he can’t decipher. There’s a man he’s never seen before, and he’s in Insomnia, he knows that much. He’s also in a Glaive uniform. Prompto sees fire around him, and hears him calling out but can’t make out what he’s saying. He forgets a lot of the details before he gets them all down on paper, and curses his memory. But if this one follows the same patterns as the others, he’ll have many more chances to catch the things he’s missed.

Luna is very busy. So is Noct, and Ignis by extension. Gladio is busy balancing his every day activities with the guards for the Tenebraen Queen and her General. Prompto gets a call from Talcott that Cid could use an extra pair of hands on the weapons he’s been working on, and Cindy’s got a backlog of car orders that’s got their hands tied. Prompto says he’ll leave the city today and be there by nightfall to help out, and finds he’s really grateful for the extra work. He grabs his suitcase, half packed from the last time he planned to head out, and finishes the job. While he works he has the TV playing for background noise. With some time to kill before he leaves, he has a seat and turns up the volume. It’s a news feature focusing on Lunafreya, showing clips of her visits to Insomnia’s hospitals and ongoing reconstruction efforts. Many of the city’s largest bridges have been rebuilt, but the work continues to help the flow of traffic, adding new ones and restoring old ones fallen into disrepair.

“Alongside these gargantuan construction efforts, the government has revealed plans to begin work on a memorial for those lost to the invasion 12 years ago, as well as those who gave their lives in sacrifice during the Dark Years,” the anchor reports. “Meldacio Hunter HQ has compiled an expansive list of Crownsguard, Kingsglaive, hunters, and ordinary citizens who fought and perished in service to the Crown and its people.”

The camera cuts to a video of Lunafreya, standing before a sizeable audience, addressing them in a speech.

“Those brave soldiers who fought for our safety and independence shall not be forgotten,” she says, and Prompto sees Noct standing behind her on the podium, Ignis by his side. He’s wearing his shades, he notices, and wonders if the sunlight hurts his eyes. How much do the people of Insomnia know about their leaders? Would they believe him if he told them the truth? He tunes back into the broadcast.

“I was present, as were so many of you, when the Niflheim army attacked the Crown City and attempted to lay waste to its grandeur,” she continues. “The fire and smoke obscured our homes and businesses, causing massive destruction all across the area. That day, as many of you have, I lost someone very dear to me. He perished in service to the Crown, leading citizens to safety and assisting in subduing the threat, potentially saving thousands of lives at the cost of his own. It is courage like this that we aim to honor, and as Queen of Tenebrae, I pledge my nation’s support in erecting monuments in Insomnia’s center to pay tribute to the fallen.”

There’s applause, and the screen cuts back to the anchor.

“There’s still been no word as to whether King Noctis and Queen Lunafreya will resume marriage plans, but sources close to the Crown say that no such plans exist. We’re left to wonder: with no apparent heir to the throne, what comes next for the Lucian monarchy? Here’s Vyv Dorden on the future of the Lucis Caelum bloodline.”

Prompto wants to hear what he has to say, but turns it off anyways and flops back on the bed. It’s all conjecture. Noct and Ignis haven’t made their relationship public knowledge, and from what he knows, for good reason. The people expect a blood heir, and although Noctis has the power of the Crystal on his side, there’s probably no way to produce a kid out of thin air.

 

The Crystal.

 

He sits up, eyes wide.

Noct’s absorbed the Crystal. It literally lives on in his heart, granting him the magic of his family without the need for the Kings of Yore. That’s how he’s able to sustain the drain from the Kingsglaive on top of it.

But the Kingsglaive don’t have dreams like his. They would’ve said something. What’s different about him from the rest of the Glaives? They’re Lucians by nationality, but for the most part, not by blood. Just like Prompto.

He swallows. That can’t be it.

He gets up and starts going through the papers in his desk, hoping to find something to help him connect the dots. There’s another link between him and the entity sending the message. Who else has seen things from the future?

He picks up a memo, dated a few weeks back. On the top, it’s stamped with an official seal.

_ Ignis _ .

He pauses. What do he and Ignis have in common?

And the answer is so obvious, he feels like falling down from his own stupidity.

“Of course,” he groans. Noctis. Noctis is the link to everything that’s happened, and may have happened. He, Gladio, and Ignis draw their power from the King himself, going back to his days as the Prince. While Gladio is connected with him, he’s not on the same level as he or Ignis are. Ignis and Noct have a romantic relationship, built on years of trust, and he and Noctis have… what? A friendship?

He wracks his brain, thinking of any and everything.

“We’re not related, we’ve never kissed, we’ve never… done  _ stuff _ …” he lists, ears growing hot at the last item. Then, it hits him.

The dancing.

The close proximity. The spiritual connection. The kiss on the forehead.

He groans, slightly embarrassed, but glad to have figured it out. “You’ve had your head on his chest, dummy. Right above the Crystal.”

He scratches his chin, letting his hand fall into his lap. That explains that. His connection to the Gods is Noctis. So is Ignis’. Luna is the direct messenger from the Gods, so there’s no need for her to decipher cryptic messages when they’re given to her directly.

“Okay,” he says aloud, setting the memo, and his revelation, to the side. “Anyone else?”

He’s not sure what he’s looking for now. Anything that might give him a clue as to what he’s seeing and how it relates to the rest of the vision. In the new dream, Insomnia was on fire. There was yelling, both at and from a man in a Kingsglaive uniform. He would have recognized him if it were himself, Gladio, or Ignis. There’s hundreds of Glaives spread across Lucis, and more still assisting in the recovery overseas in Accordo, Niflheim, and Galahd. Could he get a list of the Glaives for the future memorial, ones who were in Insomnia during the attack? That could help him narrow it down. Whoever it is, or was, has a connection to the prophecy he hasn’t considered yet. This person, like Ignis, somehow changed the course of events that allowed Noctis to live and rule his kingdom instead of dying as the Cosmogony foretold.

He sits, a dry laugh bubbling up from his throat.

Whoever he was, the Gods didn’t count on his interference.

Prompto crawls back onto his bed, clicking his phone screen to life. If he leaves now, he’ll make it to Hammerhead before the sun sets. Despite the lack of daemons, driving at night still makes him anxious. He grunts, swinging his feet off the side of the bed and standing. He closes his curtains, turns off the fans and central cooling, and locks the door before leaving. In the elevator, he sends a quick text to Noct to let him know he’s leaving. He doesn’t expect a reply so soon, and opens it immediately.

 

_ be safe. I have a new dance for you when you get back. _

 

He smiles, reading the words again to make himself happy.

He stuffs the phone into his pocket and makes his way to the parking garage, loading up his luggage and setting out.

Once he exits the city, it’s a straight shot to Hammerhead. He takes glances outside the window, wishing Noct and the others could be here to see it. It reminds him so much of the beginning of their journey. How confident they were in their future. How none of them could have possibly predicted they’d be where they are now, and not been total kids about Noct and Ignis’ relationship.

That would something they could have seen coming, he supposes. If he really thought hard, he could see just how smitten the General, then just Advisor, was with the Prince. Knowing Ignis, he’d chalk it up to his royal duty, all the care and attention he gave Noct growing up. That was true, Prompto knows. But it was definitely romantic love, too: they just didn’t recognize it yet.

The stars begin to shine overhead, the last vestiges of the day fading behind the horizon. He’s about twenty minutes from Hammerhead when he pulls over, turning the engine off. He opens the door and steps out into the road, pulling his jacket closer around him. It’s cold in the desert at night and the approaching fall in Lucis will make it even more so. He can see his breath in the air, a cold shiver accompanying it along his spine. Why didn’t he pack a heavier jacket?

He looks above him to the sky, dark blues mixing with oranges from the setting sun. White stars glow brighter and brighter as the minutes pass, and he realizes, without much fanfare, that he is alone.

He has coworkers, and friends, and people who would care if he died, but for the most part, he’s by himself. No girlfriend, no parents. Just Prompto, with his city-issued car and revolver strapped to his thigh. He wonders, then, if the him from the alternate reality he keeps seeing is alone as well. If he’s cursed through every iteration of his life to live alone, afraid of human contact and emotion, unable to reach out about the things he needs.

What does he need, he asks himself. Does he really need a girlfriend to welcome him home every night, or parents to send him birthday cards and badger him to visit? Would those things even be good for him? If not those things, then what else does a man need to not feel so damn out of place in the world all the time?

He comes back to the present moment and realizes, with no small amount of discomfort, that his legs are numb, and he’s been standing in the center of the road for some farcical amount of time. He climbs back into the car and starts up the heater, warming his hands against the vent. When the shivering subsides he wonders if he even wants to keep driving. The innate fear of the dark isn’t what’s keeping him, exactly, but rather the nostalgia. They never passed through Leide without stopping and camping somewhere during their travelling days. It feels wrong to not pay tribute to the time he spent out on the road, on a great adventure with the future King of Lucis. It’d make a great story for him to tell when he gets back home, too.

Home. Maybe home isn’t a place, but people. They bring home with them wherever they go.

He starts the engine and pulls it further off of the shoulder, far enough to not get hit by other cars, and close enough to not ruin the tread when he gets back on the road. He whips out his cellphone and dials Cindy’s number. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hey, sugarbun,” she says jovially. “We’re out here waitin’ for ya. You almost here?”

“Actually,” he says, not caring if his excuse falls flat. “I had some stuff I needed to do, so I’ll be by tomorrow morning instead of tonight. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Everything OK?” she asks, and there’s genuine concern in her voice. “If you need someone to pick you up, I can come getcha, or Pawpaw and Talcott are here, too. I can even drive the big rig, get you cruisin’ in style.”

He feels a smile pull across his lips. He paws at the Hammerhead logo-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview.

“I’m alright. Just got some business. Promise I’ll be by, bright and early.”

“Well, alright,” she answers. “You let me know if there’s anything I can do. Holler if you run into trouble.”

Thanks,” he says, and ends the call.

In the very back of his trunk is an emergency kit in the case that he’s stranded, or finds someone who is. In it, among the food provisions and extra bullets, is a full set of camping gear. While out with the Glaives on missions or during long expeditions with the Hunters he’d learned all of the essentials he hadn’t bothered to learn while camping with his friends: how to pitch a tent, stoke a fire, catch rain, and many other trades to make life easier in the wilderness. Gladio would be proud to know how much he’s learned about survival in the open world.

He takes inventory of it all then shuts the trunk. Ignoring the cold nipping at his nose, he starts treading the sands of the Leidien desert, going in what he hopes is the direction of a haven. There were plenty of them scattered around during the Dark Years but you’d be hard-pressed to find one not occupied at least by one party at all times. Nowadays, they were used more as a convenience, a place to camp high off the ground from animals and rain.

In the distance he sees nothing but darkness. The sand looks blue in the night, the stars making up for the waxing moon by shining extra bright. He’s not that far away from the city, but the glow from the nightlife is so distant he doesn’t even think about it. The land outside of Insomnia does sleep, and with sleep comes a dark quiet. He passes by a thicket of scrubs growing wiry out of the sand and hears the skittering of a tiny animal crawling back into its hole.

A few hundred feet away, he sees a glow of runes set against a stone formation. He looks around for other landmarks, making note of the cardinal direction its in, and treks back to the car.

He grabs what he can carry, which is most of his camping gear thanks to an ergonomic bag, and finds the haven again. It looks like its been unused for some time, but the Oracle’s blessing is still as strong as ever in the earth below him.

Once he sets everything down, it’s business time.

In what is probably far quicker than it needs to be, he starts a fire, pitches the tent, and sets out a pot and bottled water to boil for Cup Noodles. He has other provisions; stuff that doesn’t require liquid, but those he saves for an actual emergency. He prefers the taste of salty, convenient ramen over freeze-dried fruit and crackers any day.

He wants to enjoy the camping by making the most of his time with nature (since he’s delayed a warm bed for it,) but the cold pushes him into work mode, getting things done as efficiently as possible. He hadn’t bothered to charge his phone since before leaving Insomnia, thinking he’d be at Hammerhead later anyways, so he shuts it down to save power. But not before opening his camera and lifting it above his head, fire behind him and a steaming Cup Noodle bowl in his hand.

_ wish you were here ;) _ he sends with the selfie to Gladio, Ignis, and Noctis, then turns it off so he doesn’t waste the battery. After dinner, he stretches out on the haven floor and watches the moon pass overhead, its ascent across the sky a calming presence. He hears his work phone ring from his jacket and sighs, forgetting he even took it with him. He rustles through the pockets of it, fishing it out and answering the call just before it stops ringing.

“What the hell are you up to?” asks the voice on the other end. It’s Gladiolus.

“Hey to you, too,” he responds, rubbing one eye with his free hand. He doesn’t sound angry; more amused than anything.

“I’m stuck here schedulin’ guard detail and you’re out there eatin’ noodles by yourself in the desert?”

“I know you meant that in a good way, but it makes me sound like a total chump when you put it like that.”

“Believe me, I’d rather be in your shoes.”

He sounds tired. Prompto knows he probably does, too. But he doesn’t feel it.

“You didn’t reply when I texted you back. Too bad Iggy makes us carry work phones, huh?”

“Completely forgot I had it on me, to be honest.”

“He’d have your hide if you didn’t. Bet he tried callin’ your personal one if he’s not already asleep.”

“How do you know I sent it to him and not just you?”

The reply is cheeky, and he means for it to be. Gladio laughs.

“Knowin’ you, you couldn’t keep it to yourself. You wanna make the three of us jealous.”

“Is it working?”

“Hell yeah. You think I’m happy sittin’ in an office signin’ papers and not out there with you?”

He means it casually but Prompto’s heart skips just a little bit.  _ Maybe you’re not as alone as you thought. _

“That’s a relief. I thought I’d lost you among the rows and rows of awesome Glaives under your command. Personal shield of the King is a pretty hefty title, after all.”

Prompto hears a creaking noise over the phone and thinks it’s him leaning back in his chair. “They are pretty awesome, aren’t they? Lot of ‘em were on the expeditions to bring the Kings to Lestallum, and then back out once Noct was sworn in as King. And here they are, workin’ in the city like nothin’ ever happened.”

“That’s what we’re doing too, I guess,” he replies. “How are Luna and Ravus?”

“Good, from what I know. Ravus is with Iggy most of the time, when we’re not all with Luna. Everyone seems so happy to see her, like she’s a piece of their life they’ve been missin’. She can still heal, so that tends to put a smile on people’s faces.”

“We’ve got a lot of tired hands and aching backs out there.”

He feels himself smiling.

“So what flavor of Cup Noodle are you havin’?” Gladio asks after a beat. “I couldn’t see the label from the picture.”

He picks up the styrofoam bowl, uneaten noodles forgotten and squishy. “Uhh, looks like shrimp. Didn’t have a whole lot of shrimp in it, though.”

“That’s why you add your own,” Gladio states wisely. “Leaves room for extra stuff. Cup Noodles are craftable that way.”

“Look at you, the ramen-in-a-cup aficionado,” he jokes. “They’re good every now and again. Couldn’t finish all of mine.”

“What?” is the response. “Couldn’t finish ‘em? Why?”

“Hate to break it to you, Big Guy, but they’re just not that tasty. You’re kinda weirdly obsessed with them.”

“So you just let ‘em soak up the broth and get all mushy?”

“Yeah?”

There’s an exaggerated sigh from the other end. It sounds put-on, but knowing Gladio there’s no telling if he’s serious or not.

“Do I have to go out there and finish ‘em for you? Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ them go to waste.”

Prompto outright laughs, surprised at his insistence.

“No need to trouble yourself. I’ll finish them eventually.”

“When is eventually?”

“Right now, I’ll eat them now.”

Even though they’re miles apart, Prompto stuffs a forkful of lukewarm noodle into his mouth and chews, talking with his mouth full. “See?”

Gladio grunts, seemingly diffused from his gung-ho attitude.

Prompto can’t help it: he laughs again. When he does, he spits noodles everywhere, causing him to laugh more. Gladio is saying something but he can’t make all of it out.

“What happened?” he hears him asking as he reaches for a towel, shrimp broth dribbling from his chin.

“I spat it out,” he says in light-hearted defense, mopping up the mess. Gladio curses and guffaws.

“You’re a mess, you know that?”

“Wouldn’t be me otherwise.”

They laugh it out for what is probably only a couple of seconds but stretches on in Prompto’s mind. When they settle down, and not just think they’re settled and erupt into more laughter, Prompto wishes him a good night.

“Maybe we can all actually go camping again some time. Sneak Noct away from the throne, go somewhere far away. Like the Secullum Pass.”

“Or Ravatogh,” Gladio suggests. “I’d love to scale that mountain again. Let me know just how out-of-shape I’ve gotten.”

Prompto blows a raspberry. “You? Out of shape? You’ve got enough shape for the four of us combined, you meathead.”

“And enough looks,” the Shield adds. “Though I gotta say, Iggy and Noct have been keeping theirs up pretty well. Was rough for a while when Noct didn’t trim his beard but since we’ve got the government up and runnin’ I hear they haven’t skipped a day. I hardly get to train with ‘em anymore, but there ain’t an inch of flab on either of ‘em when I do. Noct nearly knocked me on my ass last time we fought.”

“He’s kickass, dude. We don’t have a weak King.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Gladio speaks again, clearing his throat.

“Hey, Prompto?”

“Hmm?”   
“You ever thought about someone? Like getting yourself a girlfriend, I mean.”

He laughs, and it sounds… nervous?

“With Iggy and Noct doin’ their thing, I kinda hoped I wasn’t the only one feeling miserable about bein’ single.”

“You have anyone in mind?” he asks, and Gladio sighs.

“Nah, not really. Work keeps me busy. And it ain’t like there’s a shortage of pretty girls around Insomnia willin’ to date the Kingsglaive captain, but findin’ the time to get to know ‘em hasn’t been easy. Most of the ones I’ve tried get bored or intimidated when they realize I’m not around 24/7.”

“I’m sure you couldn’t try any of the lady Glaives, huh? That’d be, like, favoritism or something?”

“I guess so. Sure would be seen like that among the rest of ‘em. As much as I’d like someone who understands what a day in the life is like, I need a way to distance myself sometimes, not take work with me everywhere. You feel me?”

“I getcha,” he responds, and out of all the emotions he could be feeling (empathy, sympathy, jealousy) he feels disappointment. Why, he doesn’t want to say, even to himself.

“I’m not exactly miserable being single,” he starts. “I don’t really need a girlfriend or a wife, I guess.”

“So you need a boyfriend, then?”

The reply is so casual and unloaded that it catches him off-guard. He rescues himself before he starts stammering, though.

“Not what I meant.”

“Didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just, findin’ out that both Iggy and His Majesty prefer dudes, figured I’d give you the benefit of a doubt. You can be like Noct and like both.”

He makes an unsure noise, morphing into a sheepish laugh.

“I don’t know if Noct really likes girls like that at all. Luna is probably the exception. And even then, his feelings don’t go past friendly.”

“You think they did at some point?” the Shield asks. He shrugs despite being on the phone.

“Maybe? They were supposed to get married, after all.”

“Ain’t lookin’ like a possibility now, though.”

They sound like they’re trying to reassure one another of something, but Prompto doesn’t know what it is. His phones beeps at him and he looks at it, seeing a low-battery alert.

“As much as I like gossiping about Noct’s private life…”

“You gotta go. I getcha. I’ve stayed on for too long, too.”

He hears another creak and reasons that he’s sat up straight in his chair.

“You have a good night, and come back in one piece,” he says.” And charge both of your phones, or else I’ll have to come get you myself.”

It sounds like a promise. Prompto bites his lip.

“What if I ran away?” he asks coyly. “Went off into the Lucian wilderness and never came back?”

“Then,” Gladio replies, his voice low and teasing. “I’d have to find you. Who knows? I might like it out there never come back, either.”

“There’s no office paperwork,” he reasons. Gladio plays along.

“And no meetings.”

“Just me, you, and the big blue sky.”

Gladio laughs, a deep, rumbly thing.

“Don’t make it more tempting than it already is.”

He wants to ask. He desperately wants to ask which part, exactly, made it more tempting. It would be so easy, and so smooth, too. Like butter on hot toast.

“Night, Big Guy,” he says instead, keeping the good mood in his chest.

“Night, Little Guy.”

After stoking the fire and packing away his utensils, Prompto settles into the tent. Settle would be the word, if he didn’t roll around on the blankets like a teenager, laughing to himself with glee. When he falls asleep, it’s after he allows himself, just this once, a domestic fantasy of what life would be like with Gladio as his boyfriend and Pryna as their house pet. Together, they could be one another’s home.


	7. The Blood Price

Soaring silver bird

 in the noonday

  sky.

weighted

 with the man

  who chose

   to leave me.

 

I wish

 for safety,

pray

 for flame,

knowing hotly,

 in the midst

  of my confusion

   that flame

 

or no

 he will be

  dead

   to me

    now.

-Danielle Steel, “Soaring Silver Bird”

 

When he wakes up, it’s to a loud phone call.

“Prompt-- where-- you?-- Noct is-- and Luna--”

He asks Ignis what he means, to speak up or go somewhere with better service, but his phone dies before he can get an answer. He tries his personal phone but it’s dead, too. Drained after shakily opening his contacts list and struggling to hit Ignis’ name.

He stumbles out of bed and outside. It’s not daylight yet, but the sun is on the rise. He extinguishes the fire, hastily throwing on his day clothes and packing everything as fast as he can.

When he reaches his car, blessedly undisturbed where he parked it the night before, he tosses his camping gear into the trunk and starts the engine. He should go to Hammerhead. Tell Cindy what’s happened, and why he’s turning around and heading straight for the Citadel, mind on fire.  But there’s no time. Ignis’ voice was upset and Prompto’s dream last night gives him good reason to be as well.

 

He comes to a screeching halt outside of the Citadel, not bothering to lock his car when he jumps out of it. A member of the Crownsguard tries to stop him, to ask what’s wrong, but he rushes past her without a word.

He volts into the elevator and presses on the button to Noct’s floor. When it doesn’t move, he curses and kicks the panel below it, hands going to his hair. His keycard is in his luggage.

Just as he’s about to run back outside, a man steps in front of him and swipes his card, letting the doors shut and the elevator rise. When he steps aside, Prompto recognizes him as Cor.

“Marshal,” he says, surprised. He hasn’t seen him in what feels like years.

“Heard you making a stink outside,” he says, crossing his arms. “Ignis said you weren’t answering either of your phones, so I figured you were on your way back. Glad I was right.”

“What happened?” he asks, hysteria assuaged but worry still evident. “Is Noct alright? And Luna?”

The door opens and he all but runs out. Cor goes after him and grabs his arm, pulling him to a stop.

“Calm down, they don’t need you panicking,” he says hardly. Prompto pulls his arm from his grip, but doesn’t run. He takes several breaths, then opens his eyes to see the Marshall still there.

“Better?” he asks, and Prompto nods. Cor nods in return and starts walking towards Noct’s room.

“Ignis found him this morning. Said he heard something knock over, and went into the King’s room to find him in some serious pain. We’ve got him settled down, now, but we have no clue what’s happening. The doctor says there’s nothing physically wrong with him.”

Prompto feels the edges of panic creeping into him again. He pushes it down, however, his fingers twitching nervously. He’d forgotten to put his gun in its holster before he ran upstairs.

Cor knocks twice rapidly then immediately enters, holding the door open for Prompto. He walks inside and sees Luna, Ignis, and Gladio gathered in the room. They all jump to their feet and Gladio approaches him, grabbing both of his arms and patting him a little too hardly.

“You OK? You hurt or anything?” he asks quickly, feeling his biceps and shoulders. Prompto squirms, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

“I’m fine,” he assures, and Ignis makes it to his side.

“What happened?” he asks, and Ignis levels him with a calming gaze, recognizing his growing anxiety.

“It’s alright,” he says. “We were awoken by the sounds of Noct’s distress, and grew worried when you weren’t returning our calls. He’s fine, now, but still we wanted you with us in case of an emergency.”

“What’s happening to Noct?” he asks again, more insistent, and Ignis takes his hands, Gladio releasing his grips on his arms.

“We don’t know,” he answers, and it frustrates him. Prompto stomps once and looks away from Ignis, only to see Noct lying on his bed, one hand on his chest. He feels hot tears in his eyes.

“What’s happening?” he asks again, throat tight. No one answers, and it’s Luna’s turn to approach him. Ignis relinquishes his hands and Luna cups his face in hers, her smile so assuring.

“His Majesty will be fine,” she says, and he slides his hands over hers. Two fat tears fall down his face when he closes his eyes, the anxiety crushing his soul. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a hug, gently turning him back and forth in her arms. He holds her back, a sob escaping his mouth.

“I saw it,” he says, then repeats himself into her hair. “I saw the fight in Insomnia. You and Libertus, and the Glaives who betrayed King Regis. I saw it.”

She pulls away from him, surprise on her features. Gladio and Ignis exchange glances.

“What fight?” Gladio asks, stepping forward. Prompto hears the sound of feet and sees, over their shoulders, Ravus standing there.

“You,” he says, and Ravus doesn’t move. “That’s how you lost your arm. Not fighting the King, or during the invasion. It was the Ring.”

Ravus stiffens but doesn’t say anything. When he takes a step forward, Prompto doesn’t know why, but he runs. He runs away from Luna and the others, past Cor, and out the door. He hears them call after him, try to stop him from leaving, but he doesn’t listen. Instead, he just takes off down the hall, no direction in mind. And keeps going. Soon, the footsteps behind him fade out, and all he hears is the pulsing blood in his ears, his vision a tunnel before him.

 

It’s a good hour before someone finds him. He figures they’re trying to keep it under wraps and not worry anyone not involved, so the five of them searching the entire Citadel gave him plenty of time to cool down and think about what’s happened. It’s the best, but the last person he wants to talk to, who finds him at a window in a secluded part of the private rooms.

“You are an excellent runner,” Luna says, approaching him slowly. He looks at her, then back at the window.

“Who was he?” he asks. Luna apparently also doesn’t want to beat around the bush.

“His name was Nyx Ulric. It was he who saved Libertus and I from General Glauca, the Empire’s High Commander before Ravus.”

She looks down, making her way to the window.

“General Drautos was not all he appeared to be.”

She doesn’t touch him when she realizes he’s not going to run again. She keeps her hands clasped in front of her. She looks like she was woken up and went to see Noct before having a chance to get ready for the day. Her hair is down, and she’s not wearing any make-up. He’s sure he looks like an absolute wreck.

“Regis entrusted the Ring to me before he perished. He told Nyx, ‘our future goes with you,’ before facing down the daemon General in a last attempt to end his life. He was struck down, and Nyx and I escaped the Citadel.”

She pauses to take a breath.

“Of course, how were we to know Glauca was Drautos? He had been King Regis’ loyal friend for many years. It wasn’t until we fell into his trap, and Libertus exposed his identity, did we discover we had been toyed with.”

She says this with a hint of regret. Prompto turns from the window and sinks down the wall, eyes burning from exhaustion.

“So how did you get away? Glauca never would have let you leave if you had the Ring.”

“That is where Nyx comes in,” she answers, sitting on the ground beside him. She looks sad now, remembering the terrible night the city was destroyed.

“Libertus may have distracted him, but as he was wounded there was no chance of him defeating the General. Nyx was also wounded, and I sat beside him as we prepared to face our deaths. I grasp the Ring, prepared to ask the Kings for any assistance, but he pulled it from my hand and placed it upon his finger just before Glauca struck. It was, in that instant, I knew he was dead.”

Prompto looks at her, but she doesn’t look back.

“Him? What about you?”

She smiles softly at nothing, her eyes on the ceiling.

“I have no doubt you have seen what the Ring does to those not of royal blood. You’ve seen first-hand the damage it caused Ignis, and now have seen the price it demands from unworthy warriors.”

He thinks on this.

“So, Ignis was found worthy, and Ravus wasn’t? Does that mean Nyx was, too?”

“I feel it took some bargaining on his part.”

She laughs, and it startles him.

“He burst into flames before being granted the power of the Kings, much like my brother. It seems he convinced them to lend him their strength. For a brief time, perhaps.”

Prompto sees a tear form in her eye and her lip quiver slightly, the memory obviously painful to relive.

“After being found worthy of the King’s might and drawing from their magic, he once again placed the Ring in my care, telling me to fulfill my destiny as Oracle. He was such a kind soul. Not once did he lament the turn of events before him, from the attack on the Signing Ceremony to the betrayal of his King, and the eventual demise of himself and the General. He only did what was necessary for our survival. Libertus and I left the city together while he defended us, and so many others, from Glauca and his daemon army.”

“... the Old Wall,” Prompto finishes, and she nods.

“Libertus will tell you he’s out there somewhere, being a hero for those unable to fight for themselves. I believe he is as well, but not among the living.”

She finally turns and looks at him, her tears painfully unshed.

“The Ring demands a terrible blood price for its power.”

Their eyes meet, and he’s the first to look away, casting an empty glance down the hallway. It’s quiet, then, and Prompto isn’t sure if she’s crying or not. He’s not sure he wants to know. When he talks, it’s after several minutes of silence.

“Did you love him?”

Her response isn’t immediate, but it is firm.

“As surely as the light is returned to Lucis, I loved Nyx Ulric. Never have I met a more honorable and deeply unselfish man in my lifetime.”

_ Ah, _ he thinks.  _ I get it now _ .

“So Nyx was to you as Noct is to me. And Ignis is to him.”

Her smile is friendly now, tears all dried.

“Precisely.”

She looks past him for a moment, then back into his eyes.

“I believe he and Ignis would have been friends. Perhaps the five of you could have made a wonderful team.”

He looks away, then leans his head against hers. She settles further down and leans back.

“Noct wouldn’t be here without him, though,” he states. It’s neither a reminder nor a reassurance. Just a statement. He never doubts Lunafreya will understand him for a second.

“I wish Noct and Ignis every happiness in the world. They deserve it, after so much has happened to them both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/KtlgYxa6BMU


	8. Audi Alteram Partem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Audi Alteram Partem = Let the Other Side Be Heard As Well

He doesn’t remember going to sleep, but when he wakes up, he’s in bed, shoes off and covers tucked around him. He also doesn’t remember having a dream.

He’s facing a wall when he opens his eyes, heavy from slumber. There’s a dresser beside the bed with intricately-carved designs on it, and the sheets are cool beneath him.

He shifts, first his legs, then his torso. The bed is extremely comfortable and he wants to sleep on it more. So he does.

When he wakes up for the second time, he can see the sun on the wall, glowing orange against the purple paint. Seeing the dresser in evening light, he recognizes that he doesn’t recognize it at all. Slowly, he turns from his side onto his back, then stiffly sits up.

The room is dark except for the light coming in from the window. It has heavier, black curtains, but they’re tied up and only the thin, white ones behind them block out the setting sun. He doesn’t recognize this or the rest of the furniture. Only when he looks at the other side of the bed does he realize where he is.

He settles back down onto his pillow and scoots closer to Noct, who is lying on his back. He’s uncovered, wearing a black collared shirt and slacks, but no belt. He must have been getting dressed for the day when the pain hit him.

Prompto lies beside him, resting his head on his shoulder. With his right hand, he traces up his belly and to his chest, placing it over his heart and gently pulling him closer. It beats steadily below his palm, a security he needs and wants so badly.

“Please,” he whispers, not caring if someone else is in the room, or if anyone hears him at all. “Let me help you.”

And drifts off to the beat of his King’s heart.

 

Noct’s in the foyer before the throne room.

He’s always hated this room. He laughs aloud when he remembers telling his friends almost the exact same thing two years ago, in this exact area. This was the room where Kings come to die.

He looks around him at the dark furniture, left exactly how his father had it. The setup was fine so why change it?

He looks up at the walls, to the paintings of a prophecy he’s come to be too familiar with, and finds them gone. All the grand paintings of the genesis of humanity, and the beginnings of his family’s journey, are missing from here, blank walls in their place.

“Guess someone decided to redecorate.”

The voice is unfamiliar, but the presence has something to it that causes him to not become alarmed. He looks down from where a rather large painting had hung and finds the source of the voice. It’s a Glaive, he notes. With purple ribbons and dark feathers attached to his coat. The sides of his head are shaved, and a single braid starting at his temple falls off his shoulder when he turns to look at Noct.

“If it was you, Your Majesty, well done. They made the place seem kinda foreboding. Especially for someone like me.”

“And who are you?” he asks, slowly approaching the Glaive. His smile is lopsided.

“We’ve never met, so I don’t expect you to know me. But I know you, and I know that you know that this isn’t real.”

It’s a cryptic thing to say, but Noct understands. He stops in front of him and considers his face. The Glaive speaks again.

“I like the beard. Makes you look like your Dad.”

“You were there,” Noct says, ignoring the comment. “You were the one who put on the Ring to fight Drautos.”

He looks away, then back up at the empty spot on the wall.

“Didn’t think word from the afterlife traveled so quickly.”

“The Crystal,” Noct replies nonchalantly. “Sometimes it tells me things.”

“That doesn’t sound normal.”

This guy has an odd sense of humor. It’s not like anyone he’s met before. Which is why he doesn’t blow it off like he seems to want him to.

“If this isn’t real, then what’s the point of it? How is it that despite us never having met, here we are, together in a place we’ve both been on earth?”

He shrugs one shoulder.

“Beats me. Maybe it’s the Crystal telling you something.”

Noct touches his chest, from which a blue glow radiates then fades.

“It’s usually pretty straight forward about what it wants, unlike the Ring. The Ring talks in riddles.”

“Then maybe it’s the Ring,” he answers. “It’s the one thing we have in common, Your Majesty.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Noct replies, and the Glaive raises an eyebrow.

“You served my Dad. You wore his ring, and he gave you the power to save Insomnia.”

“If saving Insomnia was my job, I did a pretty poor job of it. Lot of collateral damage.”

He looks at Noct.

“Sorry about the Caelum Hotel.”

Noct smiles.

“Finding it halfway across the city wasn’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen.”

The Glaive smiles back, then extends a hand.

“The name’s Nyx. Nyx Ulric.”

Noct takes his hand and gives it a firm shake.

They seperate, and Noct considers the room around them.

“Why this specific room, for my not-real meeting with you? I’m sure we’ve been in plenty of the same areas, just not at the same time.”

Nyx looks around as well, then makes his way to a couch near the back.

“Guess it’s what the Crystal wanted. Close to where a lot of stuff happened, but not exactly where.”

“Thought we agreed this was the Ring’s doing.”

“We both know whose in charge in the relationship.”

Noct approaches the door to the throne room and tries the handle. It’s locked.

“That’s where you faced him, right?” Nyx asks. “The bastard who stole the Crystal and destroyed Insomnia?”

“Never would’ve guessed it was him the whole time. Our first meeting was totally creepy, but him being my great-something uncle and wanting to destroy me, the Ring, and the Crystal? Wasn’t my first thought.”

Noct turns from the door and meets Nyx’s eyes.

“I’ve seen you before. In the throne room.”

Nyx inclines his head and Noct continues.

“He tried to use you as leverage before we faced one another. Hung up your corpse beside my Dad’s, Mom’s, and another Glaive I’ve never seen. Maybe you know her.”

“Tall, wears a scarf? Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Before you died or after?”

“After. She isn’t dead, but gets visions from the Crystal, same as you and your friends.”

He wants to ask what her significance is, but Nyx answers for him.

“She was part of the team that betrayed King Regis and led the bombing at the Signing Ceremony. During the attack she got knocked out, though, and didn’t remember anything. Wasn’t until the darkness came that she got access to her old phone and found messages from the other traitors. But until then, she was helping Libertus keep the energy on in Lestallum. She said she met your friends and beat them all in training. Sounded pretty hilarious.”

“What is she doing now?” he asks. Nyx smiles.

“Beats me. Not like she returned to her life of crime, but the last I saw of her, she was on Angelguard when you woke up. So I guess you have met her, but you just don’t remember.”

Noct wonders where she is in the world now.

“So she betrayed my Dad, helped Niflheim steal the Crystal…” he lists. “And beat up my retainers. Sounds like someone I shouldn’t trust.”

“I’d trust the Crystal, though.”

He says this so certainly that Noct frowns.

“If the Crystal is showing you something, it means it’s important. Same for Ardyn’s leverage. Your Mom and Dad’s deaths were pretty important to your life, and I guess mine was, too. Guess the old Kings are trying to tell you that a lot of people have their own stories to tell. Whether you hear them is up to you.”

The amount of wisdom coming from this Glaive is simultaneously confusing and enlightening.

“You don’t seem like a super wise guy, in the literal sense. Does being dead for over a decade have its advantages?”

“I’d love to answer that, Your Majesty,” Nyx says. “But you’d have to be dead to know. And I don’t think Luna would like that very much.”

“Luna…” he says, and Nyx repeats after him, a fond look on his face.

“Now that’s a girl I’d like to meet again.”

“You two haven’t rendezvoused in this not-real place?”

“She’s got so much celestial energy surrounding her, even the Crystal has a hard time getting messages through. Looks like the Six have a monopoly on her time.”

Noct considers this.

“Can I bring a plus-one next time?”

Nyx looks down at his feet, kicking at something invisible.

“With all due respect, Majesty, I don’t think there’s gonna be a next time.”

He looks up, slightly apologetic.

“Not like you’re gonna lose connection to the Crystal or anything; it’s way too late for that,” he says, gesturing to Noct’s chest. “But this whole escapade is gonna wrap up soon, and I’d hate to cause you more pain just for a friendly chat.”

Noct’s smile is devious.

“So it was you who made me fall out of bed this morning.”

“If there’s a will, there’s a way.”

Noct joins him by the couch, studying how the Glaive seems just about as concrete as the furniture in front of him.

“If we don’t meet again,” he says, and offers his hand. Nyx looks at it, then takes it with a tight expression.

“Thank you. My Dad was right to trust you with the Ring.”

“Any time. Rule well, young king.”

 

The room is completely dark when he opens his eyes. There’s a flashing on the canopy of his bed, and Noct looks at his chest for the source. He gently moves the hand resting on him and sees the Crystal’s glow, darkened from beneath his shirt. He’s grateful he’s wearing black or else the light would probably wake up the people sleeping beside him.

He feels to his right and finds a warm presence, blond hair visible in the steady glow of his heart. He looks to his left where another blond head rests on the bed, body in a chair. Ignis is asleep, the fingers of his hand entwined with Noct’s. At the other side of the room, he spots long legs hanging off the edge of the couch accompanied by a loud snoring.

He shifts, slowly in case there’s pain, and moves his arm from under Prompto’s body to around his shoulders. He squeezes the hand holding Ignis’ then pulls them apart. In his palm, secured between he and Ignis’ hands, is a single raven’s feather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters have been relatively short but we're getting there, my friends! if you're enjoying it so far plz remember to comment ❤❤❤


	9. Making Some Wrong Things Right

It’s way too warm in his room when Prompto wakes up. There’s someone behind him in the bed, their arm draped across his midsection. He figures it’s Noct, rolls over to greet him with the morning, and sees that it’s not the King but rather Gladio, sleeping soundly beside him. He feels himself start to sweat.

Gladio feels him move and opens his eyes, blinking a few times before settling on his face.

“Mornin’,” he groans, shifting his weight but not moving from the bed. He’s still wearing his Glaive uniform.

Prompto looks around, not able to take his mind off the heavy arm still around his waist.

“Why am I in my room?” he asks, and Gladio waits for clarification.

“Last night,” he continues, “I was in Noct’s.”

“Oh,” the Shield responds. “Noct got better and sent us to our rooms. Guess you were pretty out of it, though, ‘cause I had to carry you here.”

He yawns and stretches. It’s relieving to have that arm off of him.

“Okay,” Prompto answers, head clearing. “But why are you here?”

He shrugs once, scratching his chin. “Iggy said you shouldn’t be alone. After Ravus found you and Luna asleep in the hallway, we took you to Noct’s ‘cause he said it would calm you down. Looks like he was right.”

Slowly, Gladio reaches up and places his hand on Prompto’s cheek.

“You doin’ OK?” he asks, and his voice is so soft that despite his heart wanting to beat out of his chest, Prompto feels calmed. He tightens his lips and nods once, then again.

“Yeah, no, I’m good.”

A thumb brushes over his cheekbone. Gladio is illuminated by the window behind him, his thick eyelashes making the brown-gold of his irises stand out in striking contrast. His hair is spilling across his shoulders and the pillow below him, dark mahogany flecked with strands of honeyed amber. There’s a greying at his temples-- more a sign of his experience than his age. Prompto wants to touch him, to gently run his fingers over his hair and feel the rough texture of his beard. To smooth away the concern between his eyebrows, and kiss the worry from his lips. He allows himself one touch, sliding his fingers over his own large hand.

“Yeah…” he says, almost a whisper. “I’m good.”

 

The government continued running despite Noct’s impromptu absence the previous day, and things look like business as usual today. Luna’s events were cancelled for today, much to the public’s disappointment, but a Glaive stops Prompto in the hall and gives him a flower to pass on to the Queen.

“For her health,” she says. “She spends so much time caring for us, she deserves to care for herself.”

And Prompto couldn’t agree more. Nobody, especially not Luna, ever mentioned the toll the attack on Insomnia had taken on her. She went directly from pomp and circumstance at the welcoming party to being a hostage on an airship, to fighting for her life and letting the man she’d loved sacrifice himself for the sake of humanity. And following that had been a never-ending stream of healing the sick, awakening the Six, and rebuilding her disillusioned country, all while nearly dying at every turn. It was like she was born working, all her raising being to the end that she fulfill the prophecy and protect the True King. So much was expected of her for so little in return.

On his lunch break, Prompto plugged in his phone to see he had five missed calls: one from Tallcott, one from Cid, and three from Cindy. The situation was the same on his work phone. He wanted to check his voicemails (the responsible thing,) but opted to delete them all instead. Let his phone charge, then call Cindy back. That’s the plan.

He also stopped by Lunafreya’s room, but Ravus sat beside the door, stating she needed her rest.

“I fear this trip has taken its toll,” he said, eyeing Prompto in what seemed like a condescending manner. It’s was probably more distrust than condescension, now that Prompto had shown distrust in him for his involvement with the Ring, but he talks to Noct about it that night anyways, sitting on the floor in front of the couch where the King cards his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t understand him,” he says, raising then lowering his hands in exasperation. “One minute he’s against us, then with us, and turns out he’s been with us the whole time but didn’t wanna act like it? What’s up with that?”

Noct looks away from his memo sheet, paper tabs and highlighter marks dotting the white surface of the top paper.

“There’s not a lot to understand,” he answers. “Ravus wasn’t on our side, initially; he was on Luna’s. He thought he could protect her by destroying us, since he blamed my Dad for their Mom’s death.”

“But why did he try to take the Ring?”

“Dunno. Think it was a turning point for him, though. When it burned his arm off he turned a new leaf and used his position to protect Luna from the Empire, even if it meant roughing us up a little bit.”

He pauses, hands still moving through Prompto’s hair.

“He did protect my Dad’s sword, though. Pretended it was a trophy from the attack so he could get it to me. His heart’s in the right place is what Iggy says.”

“But his attitude…” Prompto says with distaste. Noct shakes his head.

“What’s in his heart is all that matters.”

They fall silent, Prompto looking up at the ceiling. They’ve yet to address the elephant in the room: Noct’s sudden outage, and Prompto’s dreams about the unfulfilled prophecy. He scratches a particularly good spot on his head and Prompto leans into the touch, closing his eyes and exhaling out loud. He indulges himself for a little while, then turns around, resting his elbows on Noct’s knees. Noct has gone back to reading his memos.

“Hey,” he says, poking the paper. Noct moves it and looks at him.

“Hey yourself.”

“Tell me about the Crystal.”

He sets the paper on the couch arm. “What do you want to know?”

“It’s gotta do something,” he responds. He lifts a finger and pokes Noct’s chest, right above his heart. “We went through way too much trouble for it to just sit and block your arteries.”

Noct laughs, then reaches out with both hands. He pushes his fingers through Prompto’s hair on either side of his head, thumbs running over his temples.

“It’s not like its physically in there. I mean, it glows like it does. But, it’s kinda like the Armiger. It’s not a place or a thing I can enter and exit from, it just exists. I will the magic to appear and it does, whether in the form of fire, or weapons, or… whatever.”

Prompto’s looking up at him, and he knows that Noct is the sweetest, most caring King in the whole world. No other monarch would sit in his room, talking to his best friend about magic, carding his fingers through his best friend’s hair. He suddenly wonders if that’s what Nyx felt, to have sacrificed himself for Noct and his kingdom. If he saw just how capable Noct would become as Lucis’ ruler. It must have been close to what Ignis felt: the need for the worthy and selfless people in your life to see a bright future beyond the darkness. Noct smiles, and opens his arms.

“You need a hug?”

Wordlessly, Prompto crawls beside him on the couch and wraps his arms around his shoulders, very nearly sitting on him when Noct firmly hugs him back. He sways back and forth, pulling Prompto with him, and it’s so fun and good and consoling all at once.

“You wanna talk about your dreams?” Noct asks, slightly muffled by Prompto’s shoulder. He shakes his head no and Noct sways them again.

“Iggy told me you went to see Luna. Was she a big help?”

It’s a change of subject, one subtle enough to answer both his first and second question, but Prompto doesn’t want to change the mood of the room. He feels safe right now, all his insecurities locked away for the time being. But the way Noct squeezes his shoulder, wanting to move away but also not wanting to let go, makes his heart hurt. He finally pulls off of him, keeping him at arm’s distance. He levels his gaze on his friend, serious.

“Did you know Nyx Ulric?”

Noct’s eyebrows draw together in a troubled expression. Prompto slowly lets his arms drop, sliding back onto the couch. They’re quiet, a fan gently flapping the top paper of Noct’s memos.

“How did you?” he asks in turn.

“I didn’t,” he answers hesitantly. “I… saw him in my dreams. Without knowing it was him, of course. I only knew when I described him to Luna.”

“When did you start seeing him?”

He feels slightly agitated, getting asked more questions than getting answers for his own.

“I saw what I think was him when I was sleeping here at the Citadel,” he replies truthfully. “Then more clearly when I slept at a haven the other night. He was there when Ravus and the Empire made off with the Crystal.”

He looks up, expression neutral. “They almost burned him like they did Ravus. He convinced them not to, though. Somehow, this Glaive told off the Kings of Yore and they gave him power in exchange. I mean, even Iggy got torn up by it. Though, I guess he got off a little easier than Nyx…”

Noct’s face is unreadable and Prompto finds it hard to look him in the eyes.

“It’s nothing,” he dismisses, shifting to plant his feet on the ground and clasp his hands together in his lap. “It’s not important.”

“I didn’t know him either,” Noct says, and Prompto looks at him. He nods and runs a hand over his mouth.

“But he knew me. Well, of me. He knew my Dad better than me, and he only met him a couple of times before he died.”

He’s looking into the distance and Prompto knows he’s thinking.

“Did Luna talk about him?”

He hesitates, not knowing how his friend feels about their past, or how she felt for the Glaive who died for her future.

“She said he was a good guy. Said we all might’ve been friends.”

Noct nods again. “Friends, huh?”

He looks down at his lap, then offers a hand to Prompto. He looks at it, then to Noct, who is eyeing him with conviction. He takes it and Noct guides it to his chest, placing it right over his heart. He closes his eyes, inhales, and Prompto can feel the magic in the air. It’s powerful. So much more than he’s ever felt before, and when he dares to look at his hand, he sees blue light peeking out from between his fingers, bleeding through his dark clothes and into the room around them. Prompto chances a look at Noct, who still has his eyes closed. He closes his, too, and the memory of meeting Nyx in the Crystal hits his own mind.

When it finishes, the air in the room changes to what must be normal, but Prompto feels its lack of charge. The air waves are imperfect and weak-- nothing like the Crystal, or the man who bears it within his heart. It feels wrong.

It registers within him that he’s still got his hand on Noct’s chest and is staring him in the eyes. The King looks like he’s waiting, waiting for an answer or an observation. Prompto simply stares, opening his mouth several times before he can speak. He starts, but is interrupted by a voice from the other side of the room.

“Nyx Ulric died a hero,” Ignis says, emerging from the open doorway connecting their rooms. He’s dressed down in a plain grey shirt and slacks, hair damp. He leans his back on the couch adjacent to them, crossing his arms.

“It’s right to know his story, and to be thankful for how much easier it made our own.”

Prompto’s eyes sting as he looks back and forth between them, Noct and his General exchanging some conversation between their eyes that he can’t hear. Ignis pushes himself from the couch and pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and tapping the screen a few times. He hesitates momentarily, giving Noct unsure glances. He gives it one more tap and passes it to his King, who takes it in his hand. Prompto has moved his hand form his chest and scoots closer to view the screen. It’s calling Ignis’ voicemail, audio on speaker.

“Press one to listen to your saved messages,” it prompts. Noct hits one.

“You have one saved message.”

There’s a loud noise, like a window being opened on a high story of a building, or the airlock of a plane disengaging. It stops and there’s breathing, followed by nothing for a short moment.

“Hey, uh, Ignis,” says the voice. The person has been running or fighting because he’s out of breath. There’s the sound of breaking glass and he curses, likely having pulled away from the phone receiver to do something. The voice comes back to clarity.

“Must be a bad time to reach you,” it says, and it sounds awkward. Like even though it wasn’t Ignis’ fault he missed the call, it’s very inconvenient nonetheless.

“I, uh…”

They sniff and groan in frustration, then exhale. The voice is steady.

“Keep the Prince safe, you hear? Don’t let him go too far without you. And take care of yourself. The Citadel just ain’t the same without you.”

There’s a crackling followed by an alarmed noise from the person, then it cuts off.

“Replay this message?” the phone asks. Noct ends the call and hands it back to Ignis, who pockets it. Prompto swallows, throat dry.

“You knew him?” he asks. Ignis nods.

“We’d met in passing. We were acquaintances, both working for the Crown here in the Citadel.”

“How’d you meet?” Noct asks. There’s a hint of a smile on Ignis’ face.

“He very unceremoniously spilled a coffee on me in the hallway one morning. He offered me napkins, we made small conversation, and the rest if history. Nothing but coworkers, I assure you. Were he not assigned the guard station at the Signing Ceremony, I would have offered him a place in our retinue for Altissia. At least until we hit Galdin Quay.”

He breaths, an unsure expression on his face.

“Were he not at the Ceremony, however, I fear we may not have seen Lady Lunafreya alive from the ruins of the City. Nor the Ring.”

“That’s not fair,” Prompto says, and it comes out more desperate than he wanted. They both look at him. Noct turns his body towards him, eyes sympathetic.

“Why did he have to die for us to live?” he asks, angrily wiping a tear away. “It’s not like the prophecy came true entirely anyways. He didn’t have to die.”

“Unfortunately,” Ignis begins. “He did. And we owe him more than I can fathom for it.”

Noct grips his shoulders, which tense at the contact.

“You heard him. What all he said to me,” he says in a reassuring voice. “He has no regrets. He only wanted us and Luna alive to save Lucis.”

He wants to fight. To tell them that it’s not right, for the whole damn prophecy to go to hell. He simply sinks back into the couch, all angry emotions and bitterness. Noct strokes his face, unsure of what to say next. He stands, patting Ignis’ arm with a fondness that sends warmth worming past Prompto’s sadness.

“I’m gonna go see Luna. We have more to talk about than I thought,” he says, grabbing his coat and slipping it on his shoulders. He looks back at them with a smile.

“Get some sleep, you guys. I won’t be long.”

Prompto waves and Noct exits, the door shutting a precursor to silence.

Ignis stares after him for a minute or so, then turns to Prompto.

“Would you like to sleep here tonight?” he asks, gesturing to the bed. “You look exhausted.”

Prompto shakes his head, heavy and stuffy.

“Some soup, then?” he offers. Prompto’s stomach growls in response, but he shakes his head no again despite it.

“Will you be driving home, then?”

“Nah, my stuff’s here. I’ll just take the room down the hall and make my way out in the morning.”

Ignis seems to understand, although he looks disappointed. Prompto’s stomach growls again and he winces against the pang, hoping his friend won’t notice.

“Then I bid you goodnight,” he says. Prompto gets up and opens the door, exiting without another word.

 

Luna’s room is dark. It’s nighttime, so she must be sleeping, Noct knows. Ravus is either turned in for the night or working late, planning their return trip to Tenebrae, because the chair outside her door is vacant. He pads across the room, illuminated by the open window. Umbra raises his head when he approaches, head cocking to the side in a question.

“Hey boy,” he whispers, kneeling and patting his head. “Gimmie some paw.”

Umbra puts his paw into Noct’s open hand and he shakes it, scratching his ear before standing straight.

He looks to the window, a breeze flapping the light curtains around. He sees particles floating in the moonbeam,  whirling and landing on the carpet in a final motion. He reaches down and touches the spot where the moon bathes the floor, the carpet sinking below his fingertips. When he lifts them to his face they’re covered in some kind of soot. It feels smooth and ashy but has no smell. There’s sylleblossom petals everywhere. He stands and quietly closes the window, making a note to have the floor vacuumed tomorrow while she’s working.

He glances at Luna on the bed. Her back is to him and her breathing is steady, indicative of sleep. He steps closer, the mattress sinking under his weight when he sits.

He places a hand on her arm and moves it, gently shaking her.

“Luna?” he asks, and she stirs lightly. He sees movement from the corner of his eye and Pryna is there, staring holes into him with her unearthly blue eyes. He shakes Luna again, whispering her name, and she only lets out a small noise.

Is she dreaming? He delicately turns her on her back, pushing blonde strands of hair from her face. Her eyes aren’t moving under her eyelids-- a sign of REM sleep. But she’s obviously not waking up any time soon.

He smiles, the sight pulling at his heart’s strings. She already does so much; his questions can wait.

Slowly, he takes her hand and kisses it once. He makes to set it down but stops halfway. Some part of him, possibly the Crystal, is saying  _ not yet _ . He tries to set it down again and succeeds, letting it rest beside her. But before he leaves, he takes it once more and places her palm over his heart, the Crystal glowing blue once in acknowledgment.

“Let her see him again,” he whispers. “Then he can really rest.”

The Crystal shines brightly, lighting up the wall behind the bed. Umbra has joined his sister and lets out a small growl at the light. She nudges his nose with hers in reassurance and he licks her, settling his head between his paws and watching Noct closely. His heart pulses, faint to bright, faint to bright, as he shows her slumbering mind the room where she can see her hero again, one last time.


	10. Unintended Consequence

How do I find my way back

 from the place

  where you

   left me?

The arbor,

 the swing,

  the lilac,

   the ring,

the promises, the dawn,

 the dreams,

  that they spawned.

I understand.

 It is all different now.

  you aren’t a boy,

   you’re a man.

But show me, my love,

 the way back

  from it all.

and I’ll follow the path

 if I can.

-Danielle Steel, “If I Can”

 

Prompto did head to his room, and he did shut the door behind him when he left Noct’s, leaving Iggy alone. That’s what he’d planned.

But things didn’t always go according to plan.

So he creeps around the hallway, making his footsteps as light as possible. He peeks around the corner towards Luna’s room, feeling too much like a kid getting up for water in the middle of the night and not wanting to wake up his parents.

The chair outside is empty, thankfully, and Ravus’ door is closed. He pads along, heavy Kingsglaive boots removed and set in his room. He pulls out his keycard and unlocks the door, carefully turning in a circle and shutting it soundlessly.

The room is quiet. Her curtains are open and the full moon is shining through, almost as bright as the overhead lights during the day. He shifts his weight, not knowing what to do now. He finds her on the bed and pauses, following her arm to Noct. His eyes are closed and he looks like he’s concentrating, deep in thought. Prompto nearly steps on Umbra and the dog gets up and walks away in irritation.

He approaches the bed and takes a long, hard look at Noctis. If he wasn’t sitting up Prompto would think he was asleep, too. Is he doing the same thing for Luna as he did for Prompto? There’s magic in the air and it only gets stronger the closer he gets to the two. Luna’s eyes are moving rapidly and her eyebrows are creasing together, lips drawing into tight lines like she’s frustrated. Is he showing her Nyx or something different? She doesn’t look happy whatever it is.

He hears a noise behind him and turns, heart jumping. Umbra is growling, lips lifting to reveal white teeth and dark gums.

He moves slowly in an arc around Prompto who stands as still as a statue. He licks his own lips, confused and afraid.

“Umbra?” he asks. Umbra barks loudly and Prompto shushes him, urgently putting a finger to his mouth. The dog barks again and Noct startles awake, eyes finding Prompto’s.

He looks scared, Prompto realizes. Noct is breathing hard and he looks down at his chest, the crystalline glow of his heart fading in and out behind Lunafreya’s hand.

“Noct,” he starts. “What’s happe--”

Umbra barks twice, very loudly, and it hurts his ears in this quiet room. He looks around frantically for anything to stop the mystical dog from shattering his eardrums, to keep Luna from waking from her dream. Somehow, her seeing Nyx again is the most important thing he can think of.

Noct looks like he seconds the sentiment. He’s trying not to move but obviously wants to calm Umbra down. But the more upset he grows, the faster the Crystal’s light pulses and the more disturbed Luna’s sleep looks. Noct looks to Prompto for help, a plea behind his eyes.

There’s a loud noise from the window and everything stops.

Umbra’s barks cease and so does Prompto’s heartbeat. His ears clear of the hard, hot pulsing of blood and a deep chill settles in his stomach. It’s so quiet, the glowing of Noct’s heart over and over fighting for dominance over the moon’s bright white light the only activity.

Prompto takes one, then a second step towards the window. Pryna hasn’t moved from the center of the room, eyes trained on Noct. Umbra’s position is defensive, uncharacteristically hostile towards the two of them. Either the two of them, or whatever is outside the window.

Prompto makes it to the sill seat, pushing aside plump pillows and crawling on his hands and knees towards the latch. A shadow darkens the lower half of the pane and suddenly there’s a hand there followed by another loud bang on the glass.

“Noct!” he calls out, volume forgotten, and barely has time to register anything before he’s yanking up on the latch and pulling it open. There’s a wind blowing, heavy for how high they are in the Citadel, and it makes him lose his balance for a moment. When he regains it, he sticks his head out and looks down, the vertigo of the height dizzying.

“Hey!” cries a man, and Prompto’s eyes, fuzzy from fear of falling, can hardly focus. He blindly reaches out and catches a strong hand, gripping his lower arm and trying to pull him up from the ledge.

The man is lifting himself with his other hand on the sill, sounds of struggle filling Prompto’s ears. There’s a commotion from the room behind him and suddenly Umbra is beside him, teeth bared and barking into the man’s face.

It all happens so fast. One minute he’s got the man’s arm, is pulling him to safety, the next thing he knows his other hand slips and he’s letting go, gravity nearly forcing him out the window as the man falls, face a frozen portrait of fear.

Prompto quickly retreats from the window and scrambles backwards onto the floor, landing roughly on the carpet. Dust flies up from it and settles around him, staining his dark clothes. He points a finger at the window, crying out.

“Noctis!!”

The bed creaks behind him and Noct is a blur, climbing onto the sill seat and leaping out the window, falling into the night.

He screams and another one from behind him joins his, followed by Umbra’s barks. A door slams and Ravus comes running in, sword drawn and electricity crackling at his fingertips. Prompto can’t speak so he stands, rushing to the window and opening the pane above it for more clearance. He doesn’t see anyone. No falling mystery man, no King flying towards the ground at break-neck speed. The night is silent and calm, eerily so. Luna joins him and sticks her head out of the window, hair flying around with the harsh winds.

“There!” she points, and Prompto follows her finger. A few stories down, on the side of the building, there’s a sword stuck in the brick with a hand wrapped around it, distant sounds of a struggle bubbling up from it.

“Noct!” Prompto yells. He can see his King look past the sword and towards him. There’s sweat on his face and he’s obviously straining to hold the man and himself with a single hand.

“I’m going to jump!” he hears, and he protests. But Noct summons another blade and crams it into the side of the building, the man holding onto one of his legs. Noct turns his body towards the wall and summons a third weapon, passing it to the man below. Prompto can’t make out the instructions he’s yelling and assumes it’s towards the other man. Noct looks up and yells, at the top of his lungs, “Prompto! Move!!”

So he does.

He sees Noct launch himself from the wall, using his core to keep steadfast against the wind before he’s grabbing Lunafreya and jumping backwards off of the sill again. Ravus is immediately at her side inspecting for injuries. Prompto didn’t hear them come in, but Ignis and Gladio are there, too, demanding an explanation, but he has no time. Shortly following their tumble, a dagger comes flying through the window and loudly lodges itself into the post of Luna’s bed, wood splinters flying everywhere and raining on the carpet. Ravus pulls her away and Gladio grabs for Prompto, yanking him from the floor, dust clouds flying as his feet bound him away. There’s the distant, distinct noise of steel slicing through air, all of their bated breath culminating the moment before there’s the sound of glass shattering and sparks flying everywhere, blue, purple, and red, trails of light whisping through the bedroom air. There’s a loud  _ thunk _ when two bodies hit the floor between the bed and the window, the other man falling beside Noct once he drops from the bed post, dagger still lodged in the wood. He coughs, the debris from the window settling over them. Noct groans and sits up, Gladio rushing to his side and pulling him by his arm.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demands. He looks down and shoves the other man by the shoulders, anger apparent on his features. “Who is this? Tell me that I shouldn’t break his neck for putting you in danger.”

He kneels down and takes the man by his coat lapels and jerks him up. Both Prompto and Noct call out for Gladio to stop at the same time, Prompto dashing forward to wrestle him free. Luna is by his side, pulling at Gladio’s other hand.

“Stop, Gladiolus!” she says, pushing his large hand away. Prompto gets his other one off and Luna helps the man take a few steps back from the Shield. He runs his palms over Gladio’s chest to calm him, to steady his breathing. He’s still staring at the man, whom Luna is inspecting for injuries. Prompto looks to Noct.

“You alright, buddy?” is all he can ask. Noct nods. His heart hasn’t stopped glowing. Prompto looks across the room at Ignis and Ravus, who watch the goings on from the sidelines. Beside Ignis the dogs are staring, Umbra a calm presence, contradictory to his earlier behavior. He looks up and sees Luna frozen in place, hands on either side of the man’s face where she was likely checking for cuts. The room is silent as they all see this display, even Gladio still as the night under Prompto’s hands. The man reaches up and places his hand on Luna’s upper arm, the dust from the carpet highlighting the dark feathers of his Kingsglaive jacket. It’s startling when Luna breaks the silence, voice laced with things Prompto can’t begin to want to experience simultaneously: fear, bitterness, incredulity. Her eyes are roaming his bearded face when she speaks.

“Nyx?”

Prompto can’t see his face but watches his head nod twice and his hand, achingly slow, gently squeeze where it sits on her arm. Her eyes become misty and she lurches into his arms, sobs muffled by the fabric of his coat. Umbra waltzes past them to Noct sitting on the sill, pushing his nose into the King’s hand. His heart has stopped its blue glowing and Ignis approaches him, kneeling before him on the carpet and taking his hand in both of his. Luna lets go of Nyx and cups his face again, her own red and streaked with tears.

“Gods above, please,” she says, running her thumbs over his cheeks. “Let him be real.”

Prompto and Gladio exchange glances. The Shield’s anger is quelled but he remains wholeheartedly confused. It’s Ravus who speaks next.

“What in the blazes just happened?” he asks, sword still drawn. The electricity flowing from his arm has stopped but he’s obviously still on defense. Nyx turns from Luna to face her brother.

“Last I saw you,” he says, voice steady. “You were under Niflheim’s thumb. Where do you stand nowadays?”

Ravus lifts his weapon and points it directly at the Glaive.

“Watch your tongue, cur. Perhaps I should return you to the dead where you belong.”

“Ravus,” Luna says firmly. She moves from Nyx’s side and he yells at her to stop.

“Lunafreya, move away from that man!” he commands, but she doesn’t. She instead steps in between his sword and Nyx, face set in determination.

“Ravus, put down your saber,” she demands. Prompto can’t remember the last time he’s seen Ravus so angry, and has never heard Luna raise her voice at anyone before. Ignis slowly approaches the Tenebraen general and places both hands on his blade, pushing it down.

“Ravus,” he says quietly. Ravus doesn’t fight the interference, eyes trained in hatred on Nyx. Luna takes his hand possessively, keeping her own gaze on her brother.

“That thing,” Ravus says, lowering his blade to his side and dropping his stance. “Is not the Glaive from Insomnia. It is a wicked apparition, sent here by the Gods to sabotage you, sister. I suggest you move from it this instant so I may rid of it: for your safety and ours.”

“He is no apparition,” she defends. “For what purpose would the Gods send a man here whilst you and I reside in the Crown City? While we are in the presence of the Chosen King?”

“Perhaps they seek compensation,” Ravus declares. Prompto sees everyone tense at the volume of his voice. “For their forsaken prophecy! Twice the Crystal has been denied its blood price and now it seeks to rectify that.”

It’s Noct who speaks now.

“The Crystal,” he starts, on his feet and approaching Ravus. “Is with me. And I know it’s not doing this for malicious purposes.”

“Then what does it do it for?” Ignis insists. “A dead man should not naturally rise from the ashes which his body has lain in for over a decade. There must be a reason he’s here now, sent to the Queen’s chambers.”

“If I can add something,” Nyx interjects, and all eyes are on him. He’s on guard.

“I didn’t ask for this. One minute I was with King Noctis, the next thing I know I’m hanging from a window.”

He lifts his hands in surrender.

“I can’t tell anyone how or why it happened. Just that it shouldn’t’ve.”

Luna takes his hands, eyes wide.

“There is no such thing as mistakes from the Gods,” she insists. “You were sent for reasons nonmalignant, and with express purpose. It is no mere coincidence you are once again among the living.”

“However kafkaesque in nature the explanation may be,” Ignis starts. “We must take precautions to protect the King and Crystal.”

“I agree with Iggy,” Gladio says, and it’s the first time he’s spoken since threatening Nyx. He levels the Glaive with a hard gaze. “We gotta lock him up, least ‘til we find out where he came from.”

“He came from the Crystal,” Noct reiterates. He spreads his arms around, gesturing to the floor. “This isn’t dust from outside: it’s ash. Nothing has burned in Insomnia since the city itself from set on fire by daemons. Since he fought Drautos and saved Luna from the Empire.”

The wind whips the curtains around for effect. As if to enforce his point, Umbra sniffs the ground, ash sticking to his nose. He sneezes, then sits at Nyx’s feet, looking up at him expectantly. He leans over and pets his head awkwardly. The dark dog sneezes again.

“Don’t move,” Ravus says and raises his sword again. Luna pulls him to her and Ignis readies himself to disarm the General. Noct walks up to him and pushes it down himself, patience waning.

“I’m gonna tell you this one more time,” he says, and Prompto’s stomach twists and pulls at the hardened tone his friend has taken. “And you better listen. The Crystal sent him. And he saved my life when we warped through the window.”

Prompto looks at Nyx. The half of his face which is visible to him has a streak of blood across it. His jacket and gloves have several tears along them as well, probably from the shards of the window. He chances a look at the dagger in the bed post. It’s not one that Noct owns.

“Noct’s right,” he says, and several sets of eyes turn to him. He makes his way beside Luna, will growing stronger.

“There’s no way he’d be here otherwise.”

“You are a fool, Noctis,” Ravus spits, and his anger is alarming. “And you, sister, for placing your trust so blindingly in a dead man.”

He sheaths his saber and lowers his guard, eyes circling the ground below them.

“I will have this mess cleaned immediately and our rooms relocated.”

His eyes fall on Nyx when he looks up.

“And keep him away from the Queen.”

He turns on his heel and exits into his own room, light flooding into Luna’s still-dark one. They all exchange glances, Prompto’s shoulders falling from their aching position as he massages them. Nyx is consoling Luna, hands politely on her arms again. She is wiping blood from his face and putting her other hand anywhere she can touch, stroking his hair, his neck, his chest. Prompto looks to Gladio, who is talking with Ignis and Noctis. He joins them, listening in on the conversation to try and catch up.

“As much as I don’t like it,” Noct begins.

“Ravus is right,” Ignis finishes. “We’ve no idea what impact his being here has on the world. With death seemingly reversible through Noct’s magic, we must reconsider what is safe and what isn’t.”

“By the way,” Gladio says, looking to Noct. “What did he mean when he said he was with you? You two can’t have been talkin’ if he just showed up, right?”

“We were,” Noct confesses, obviously still confused. “It happened at first the other day when I had that bad pain. Then I showed it to Prompto. I figured since he saw it Luna should, too, but I couldn’t get to her. She was having some crazy dream of her own before I came in. I still don’t understand what happened, though.”

“So you try to, what,” Gladio asks. “Show her some fucked up dream you had about a dude you’ve never met, and since you couldn’t the Crystal just brought him back to life instead?”

“Looks like it.”

“Extraordinary,” Ignis comments, watching the Glaive and Luna interact. He approaches him slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. Nyx turns to him and to Prompto’s surprise, Ignis smiles.

“A pleasure to see you again,” he says, extending his other hand outwards. Nyx takes it and firmly shakes it, head nodding in accompaniment.

“You, too,” he says. He gestures to Ignis’ face, likely noticing the lack of glasses.

“You look a little older. I’m guessing 12 years is a long time for me to miss some stuff, huh?”

“You don’t look a day older yourself,” Ignis replies.

“Oh, believe me, I feel it.”

Luna places her hand on his arm and he turns to her, a gentle smile crossing his features.

“And you, Princess,” he says, a finger pushing hair from her eyes. “Look as lovely as ever.”

The interaction isn’t weird because it’s them, Prompto knows. It’s weird because of how he doesn’t know Noct will feel about it. He turns to look at his friend. He’s watching Luna and Nyx together but his face is unreadable. There’s something sad, or possibly nostalgic about it? Prompto can’t tell. What he does see, however, is a firmness take place there when Nyx faces him, hand extended.

“It’s good to see you in person,” he says, gripping Noct’s hand.

“Guess there actually was a next time,” Noct replies. It’s so casual for two people who only met recently. A hand rests on his shoulder and he looks up and sees Gladio.

“We should go,” he says. “Crownsguard is probably up in arms wonderin’ what the hell happened. Should probably check on Ravus, too, ‘nd make sure he’s not doin’ anything we’d all come to regret.”

He nods in agreement. He turns to Ignis and Noct, however, drawing them out of their conversation.

“What are we gonna tell Cor?” he asks, suddenly worried about their secret Glaive. “He’s gonna wanna know why a window in Luna’s room is busted, and why we’re moving the Nox Fleuret’s to a different set of rooms.”

“Leave him to me,” Noct says all business. “Not everyone is still awake so we have time to figure stuff out. I’ll talk to the Crownsguard and let Cor help us with it.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” he asks. Noct shrugs.

“Better than anything else. I’d rather have him on our side than lie to him.”

“The Marshall can smell deceit from a mile away,” Gladio adds, and it’s Ignis’ turn to talk.

“Telling the Marshall is the correct thing to do. What he does about it, however, may not be what we have in mind.”

What he does about it is not at all what they had in mind.

When Cor shows up at Luna’s room, he’s alone, having sent the rest of the security away. He’d watched the outside cameras and saw Noct jump from the window to save a falling man, then saw them warp up through her window. He caught the action on film from a few floors down. The camera outside of her floor, as it turns out, was out of service, so he couldn’t see exactly how the Glaive had materialized.

“I knew it was something weird,” he says, addressing the three of them. Gladio is with Ravus, coordinating the movement of their things to another floor. “But I don’t believe it was premeditated. The camera has been out for a couple of days and we have it scheduled for repair tomorrow morning. It’s just too exact to have been the work of anyone living.”

“But why dump him outside the room and not in it?” Noct asks.

“Perhaps as a statement,” Ignis answers. “The unexpected arriving in an unexpected way. It is the  _ modus operandi _ of the Gods.”

Cor’s solution, for the time being, is to keep him in a remote room far from Luna and the others. It’s in the same wing Prompto and the Queen had met at after he ran away, leading them on a goose chase through the Citadel. Luna is resistant to the idea, stating he’s not a criminal and shouldn’t be treated as such.

“It’s alright, Your Highness,” Nyx told her, a teasing tone in his voice. “I’m not going anywhere. You can come visit me in prison any time you like.”

The joke doesn’t amuse Cor, and less so Lunafreya. She stands and slaps him clear across the face, marching away and out the door. The grin is gone from Nyx’s face and he seems genuinely hurt. Cor leads him to his new room, the three of them left standing in the almost-empty bedroom. Housemaids silently clean up the mess from the window, several workers dismantling the bed and bringing in a replacement frame. Before they get to the broken post, Prompto jerks Nyx’s dagger from it and stuffs it in the pocket of Gladio’s coat, which was given to him by the man after the draft from the window sent him shivering. It’s comically big around his shoulders but it’s intensely warm and smells like his friend.

“So what do we do know?” he asks, pulling the coat around his chest, other hand tucked under his armpit. “Dude can’t catch a break after just being brought back from the dead.”

“We wait, I guess,” Noct replies. He leans into Ignis, who pats his back. In a rare show of public affection, he presses a kiss to Noct’s temple. Noct closes his eyes gratefully.

“So far as we know there’s been no equivalent exchange of lives for the Glaive’s, although it would be premature and rather naïve to assume it won’t happen,” the General says. “We must sequester his existence from anyone outside of the four of us, as well as the Marshall, Ravus, and Lunafreya. The Marshall has confiscated all footage from the cameras involving the incident until we’re certain of the circumstances. Only then can we make a report to the Council and the rest of the Crownsguard.”

“And the Kingsglaive,” Prompto adds. “Think any of them remember him from before the Fall?”

“He mentioned another Glaive having the same dreams as you and me,” Noct says to him. He turns to Ignis. “The same one who helped us find those batteries when we first made it back to Insomnia.”

“Ah, the Glaive from Lestallum,” Ignis replies. “Perhaps we should inform her of his return. And Libertus as well.”

“Right,” Noct says. “He’d fall over himself knowing that Nyx was alive.”

“His faith in his friend has hardly faltered this whole, long time.”

 

It’s a few days before things get sorted out. They sent word to Libertus and the Glaive in Galahd of Nyx’s possible return, only the latter responding. She sent back her well wishes as well as a quote none of them understood. No word arrived from Libertus, despite messengers saying they delivered the message.

Prompto hadn’t seen the Glaive in over a week, locked away in a room no one ever went near. Despite her protests, Cor and the Kingsglaive remained vigilant on the fact that Lunafreya shouldn’t have contact with him until they know what happened.

He’s on his lunch break when he visits Gladio, catching him towelling off after his workout.

“How’s Nyx?” he asks after they exchange greetings. Gladio blows out a breath.

“Dunno, don’t care. Guys outside his door say he doesn’t make much noise, except for one time when he threw his tray at me.”

“Why’d he do that?”

“Food not up to par? Iggy didn’t make it so I get his frustration.”

“Seriously?”

He shrugs. “Not really. We talked back and forth for a minute and he got mad when I said he couldn’t see Luna. Guy’s got it bad.”

Prompto leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Well, yeah. She’s the last person he saw alive that he wasn’t fighting to the death with.”

“Somethin’ tells me they’ve had their fair share of rows.”

They’re quiet, not wanting to jump to conclusions. Prompto looks up.

“I’ll bring him his food today,” he says decidedly. Gladio lifts an eyebrow.

“Why this all of a sudden?”

Prompto shrugs, mimicking Gladio’s earlier movement. “It looks like he doesn’t like you. Like, at all. Maybe I can get him to open up.”

Gladio smiles, then reaches forward and pinches Prompto’s arm.

“What you need is more time in the gym. Felt like a little kid was tryin’ to get his toy back from a bully.”

He shoves his hand off and grins.

“You’re looking kinda flabby,” he teases, going for Gladio’s not at all flabby stomach. He’s shirtless, sweat still glistening on his skin. “Maybe you should go back in there and train some more.”

Gladio catches his hand and they wrestle around, scuttling on the tile floor before the Shield gets him pinned to the wall, hands above his head. Prompto’s breath is coming out hard and he adjusts his feet, looking down at them before moving up to Gladio’s face. His smile is teasing, hair falling out from his ponytail and past his shoulders. He smells musky, a trace of cologne underneath his sweat. He leans his head down and keeps eye contact with Prompto.

“When are we gonna do somethin’ about this?” he asks, and although Prompto’s sure he gets his meaning there’s still a nagging doubt in his head, keeping him from getting lost in Gladio’s criminally intense eyes. He grins back at him, gaze flickering briefly to his chest, up his neck and to his mouth before settling on his eyes again.

“Well,” he starts. He wiggles his hands where Gladio has them by the wrist and feels the grip loosen, sliding their fingers together and tightening them. Gladio moves in closer and puts his nose to Prompto’s hair, breathing in deeply. He moves his head to the side instinctively, neck tickling when Gladio laughs against it. Their chests are almost touching and Prompto can feel Gladio’s crooked knee sliding between his legs, innocent enough to not rub but devious enough to send his heart racing. His hands are released and Gladio’s large ones roam down his body, rough calluses a new sensation down the skin of his arms. He’s watching his owns hands, smoothing down Prompto’s pecs and moving around his waist, settling into his back pockets. He pushes himself forward so he’s pinned Prompto to the wall, the latter’s hands shooting up and resting in his biceps. Gladio leans in and kisses the side of his mouth so gently, a ghost of lips against his. He pulls away and studies Prompto’s face, which has grown warm. He lifts a hand from Prompto’s pocket and grazes a finger across his jaw, gently landing behind his ear and carding through the hair at the back of his head. Prompto tilts his face and Gladio follows, pushing their lips together in a full kiss. He feels his heart thumping in his ears and hopes Gladio can’t, too, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and groaning when the taller man opens his mouth, lightly licking at Prompto’s bottom lip. He stifles a surprised noise when Gladio sticks his tongue into his mouth, eyebrows creasing at the weird sensation. He lets him take his time roaming his mouth, teeth drawn back and tongues connecting. He chances moving his own against Gladio’s, the feeling even weirder but not wholly unpleasant. Why people kissed with their tongues, he had no idea, but Gladio seemed to know what he was doing, angling his head and pressing their mouths closer. He feels surprisingly okay with being trapped beneath his body and back against the wall, hand in his pocket digging into his backside. One hand finds itself tangled in Gladio’s damp locks, pulling them the rest of the way from the hairband. The other pulls his chest closer, fingers bumping along the ridges of his muscles, pulling lightly at his skin. It’s a hot spark that slowly begins to simmer, likely forced down when Gladio’s knee starts moving between his legs and he yelps, remembering they’re still at work. He doesn’t want to let go, though. Both his hands are now in Gladio’s hair, pulling the dark strands through his fingers, mouth opening and breath exhaling when he kisses at his neck, starting below his ear and working down to his shoulder. He feels extremely lucky and blessed when he gets a reaction out of the taller man, biting the shell of his ear and laughing when Gladio looks offended.

“What, you mad bro? It’s only fair,” he reasons. Gladio leers, both hands cupping his face. He kisses him hard, his sound muffled between their lips. It leaves him breathless when Gladio pulls completely away, backing up from the wall and watching him intently. Prompto stares after him, brain short-circuiting.

Gladio smirks knowingly. He picks up his towel and runs it along his abs distractedly.

“Feel free to take our resident zombie his food. ‘m tired of his shit attitude, anyways,” he says to Prompto. “I’ll let the guys outside know you’ll be stopping by.”

He slings the damp cloth around his shoulders and waves shortly as a goodbye.

Prompto snorts, pushing himself from the wall.

“See you later, I guess.”

He manages to make it come out not sounding as flustered as he feels. Gladio’s always been so smooth and capable of playing things off in a way he couldn’t dream of. He watches his back as he swaggers away, lips still tingling from their earlier assault. How the hell does a man with such a big head fit it on his shoulders? He asked himself that then, and again that same day when he finds himself in Nyx’s room, food tray in hand.


	11. Sui Generis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sui generis = Uniqueness Among Kind

There’s a word to describe the stark and utterly horrible feeling he’s got in his gut right now.

Boredom.

Extreme boredom is the phrase he’s looking for.

Nyx stares, for what has to be the one-hundredth time, out of the room’s solitary window. He’s exercised in this tiny room until his legs gave out, flipped through the TV channels more times than he knows, reshaved the stubble on his face when even so much as a single dark hair peeks through his skin. At least it’s something to do.

Someone walks into his room and their feet aren’t heavy like they’re carrying 200 pounds of hard-boiled assholery above them. He turns from the window, watching this blond kid awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, food tray in hand. He blinks slowly and finally gestures to a small table. The guy seems relieved to have something to do. He sets it down and moves to the door but doesn’t leave. Instead, he hesitates, slowly turning back around. He looks around as if he’s not sure what he wants to say. Building confidence, maybe?

“Want an autograph?” Nyx asks. The guy-- Kingsglaive by the look of it-- looks like his whole plan was just thrown out the window. Nyx kinda wishes he could do that to himself right now. He continues, going on with his half-hearted attempt at breaking the ice.

“I get the feeling I’m some sort of legend around here. Any truth to that?”

“I don’t think you’re a legend.”

He meets the guy’s eyes and sees determination. But what the hell for?

“Oh yeah?” he asks, standing up and making his way to him. He looks like the fidgety type but doesn’t back away when Nyx approaches, to his credit. He’s about five or six inches taller, give or take, but his hair makes it hard to tell. It’s sticking out everywhere and he isn’t sure if all of it’s intentional.

They maintain eye contact for a few tense seconds. Nyx is the first to break away, moving to the tray and picking up a biscuit. He chews on it languidly, leaning against the table. He swallows and speaks.

“Where’s Captain Hardass?” he asks, taking another bite. The guy shifts his weight to the other foot.

“Working. Guess you knew that, though.”

“I can do a lot of stuff but I can’t see through walls.”

He sees his face pinch and it’s funny. He’s got this crinkle in the middle of his nose that’s obviously had plenty of use. A joker, then.

There’s more silence and it makes the biscuit even drier.

“You got somethin’ to say, or…?” he asks, gesturing lightly with his hand. He’s prepared for some question about his life, or maybe ask for the one-thousandth time how he’s back from the dead, and Nyx isn’t willing to answer the first nor does he know the second. Instead, he gets the emotional equivalent of a fist to his abdomen.

“Why did Luna slap you?”

It’s enough to make him stop chewing. He looks around, realizes he’s making a guilty face when he has nothing to be guilty about, and takes a drink of water. He covers his embarrassment with a laugh that soon turns into a real one. Self pity is a hell of a thing.

“I wish I knew,” he answers truthfully, looking down into his cup.

“It looked like you two were doing pretty good,” the blond guy states. “Until you made the joke about being in prison.”

“Guess she didn’t like that,” he concedes with a sigh.

“Why don’t you talk to her?”

He stands and walks to the other side of the room, frustration nipping at his heels.

“And say what? I made peace with myself, oh, I dunno, twelve years ago? I planned to never see her again.”

It’s not like it’s some heart-kept secret of his but it feels weird to say out loud. It’s only ever been him, plus the occasional beyond-death visitor, for so long, so it’s just been him and his thoughts for forever. He turns around and sees that the kid hasn’t moved.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” he asks, gesturing to him as a whole. “I’ve never seen you before. How do you fit into the royal scenario?”

“I stood up for you to Ravus,” he answers. “That should be enough.”

“Enough for what?”

“For you to trust me.”

He scoffs and plops down on the same stool by the window. He feels bitter and confused.

“Trust you to do what? Doesn’t look like you guys are doing much from my perspective.”

He sees movement from the side of his eye and grows cautious as the guy makes his way towards him. He raises his hands and narrows his eyes.

“Hey hey hey,” he cautions. The guy ignores him and goes to the window, pressing on the panes at different angles. He watches him do this for about a minute before chiming in.

“Those don’t open, you know.”

“Do you always have this much commentary? Gimmie a hand.”

He feels his eyebrow shoot up and the guy rolls his eyes. He stands with a sigh that’s a little too forced and steps behind him, pressing on the same spots with his hands. It takes a few adjustments and some major pushing but the bottom pane eventually opens, creaking as it falls into the daylight. A wind blows in and drifts across his skin. He feels tempted by it. The guy moves from in front of him and to the side, so Nyx steps where he was and sticks his head out of the window. The sun is bright and it hurts his eyes at first, but they adjust and he sees the glittering glass city below them, reflecting the light like thousands of little jewels. The warmth on his face is so, so good that it nearly makes him feel human again. He hears the pane above him creak and swing upwards, opening the entire thing and letting all of the fresh air in. There’s no seat below it but he could easily step up to the ledge if he wanted. The window’s big enough.

He pulls his head from the window and finds the blond Glaive, eyeing him with trepidation.

“Why are you helping me?” he asks. The guy nods resolutely, and says as if it’s the most goddamn obvious thing in the world, “She needs you.”

He thinks, mind beginning to race. “There’s cameras on this floor.”

“But not outside Luna’s,” he answers back. “They can see that you leave but not where you go.”

He shrugs. “Better yet, just warp out and to Luna’s window. That way they can’t be sure you even left.”

“It’s not that easy,” he says. He pats his pockets. “I need a blade to warp. They took ‘em.”

The kid is some kind of magical, forward-thinking genius, he thinks, because he opens his palm and produces one of Nyx’s daggers in a flash of blue light. He studies it, takes it in his hand, and flips it once. A smile creeps across his features.

“You took this from Luna’s room, didn’t you?” he asks, gesturing with the handle of the dagger. The guy nods and a small smile hits his freckled face.

“What’s your name?” Nyx asks, genuinely curious.

“Prompto,” he answers.

“Well, Prompto…”

Nyx flips the dagger again and chunks it out the window, saluting with two fingers before warping out of the window and catching the black blade, falling some distance before lodging its edge into the side of the building and hanging on to it. He looks up at his room window and sees Prompto stick his head out, making a fan of his hand to shield his eyes.

“I owe you one!” he calls out. He receives a thumbs-up in response and shakes his head, plotting his next movement.

“And people used to call me the Hero.”

 

The plan to escape his room wasn’t exactly foolproof, what with a visible trail of sparks following his body every time he warped, but it seemed an admirable try nonetheless. It would’ve been far more awesome, he thinks as he stands in the empty room, if they’d taken into account how the Crownsguard had moved Luna to another part of the Citadel before he threw himself from the building.

He steps carefully around the carpeted room. It smells like flowers. Luna’s flowers. He’s never seen them before but she carries the scent with her everywhere she goes. It’s something only someone with as much money and as much class as Luna would do. He’d heard an old story from the grandmothers by the river growing up about an empress who would douse the sails of her ships in her own perfume so the scent arrived in the city before she did. Her reasons were vanity, it seemed, or to excite her old and current lovers. Nyx doubted Luna had many lovers to speak of and knew for sure she was about as vain as Libertus. Her scent was something that lingered, anyways. Something you’d note was left behind, not announcing her entrance. Luna was subtle like that sometimes. Strong and noticeable in most situations, gentle and poetic in others. Nurture versus nature.

The bed was completely new with no dagger marks and the carpet had been thoroughly cleaned. It looked like no one had been in here for months, and he’d even believe that himself except for the absence of dust everywhere. Dust was a tricky thing: getting into places where it rightfully shouldn’t be, provided the laws of physics and basic nature were in place. He swipes a finger across the top of a bureau and rubs it with his thumb. Clean. Figures.

He searches the drawers for any kind of map or indication of where he is in the Citadel. Of course he finds nothing, aggravation growing. He could go back, hope that Prompto returns tomorrow with new information. If they don’t lock him in a literal prison after this, of course. He’s technically trespassing and evading custody.

There’s a door on the far wall that he’s not sure if it leads to the outside or not. He creeps towards it, slowly testing the lock. It’s open. He turns the knob and pushes it, feeling grateful for the lack of sound. It leads into another room, similarly empty. This one is white and purple. Very Ravus.

He checks the drawers of the furniture and comes up empty-handed once more.

“If I were a map,” he mumbles to himself. “Where would I be?”   
He remembers that spread across the Citadel are little information pamphlets. There’s no telling if he can find one on this floor without being caught, though, and tucks the idea away for later. Who knows if they’re still there anyways after the city was destroyed and rebuilt.

There’s a ringing noise from the other room that stops him in his tracks. He pauses, inclines his head to listen. No footsteps. Slowly, he turns around and exits Ravus’ room into Luna’s, finding the phone on the nightstand by its lights. He watches it as it rings and contemplates picking it up. Who would be calling a room that’s supposed to be vacant?

It stops ringing and the lights die down a couple of seconds later. It’s silent. He looks around the room for anything suspicious but gets interrupted by a knock at the door.

The voice behind it is muffled. He hears the automatic lock click and the door begin to open so he dashes for Ravus’ room, hiding behind the almost-closed door and sitting very still. He hears nothing for what seems like ages. No footsteps, no voices, no guns readying to shoot him dead through the door.

“Nyx?” he hears. He stays still. The voice calls out again in a louder whisper. “Are you in here?”

He slowly peeks around the door and sees a shock of blond hair beside the window. He pushes himself up and pads into the room, looking around. Prompto turns around and greets him.

“You alone?” he asks. Prompto nods. He lifts something from the ground and passes it to him.

“Get dressed,” he says and walks passed him. Nyx glances down at the bundle in his hands.

“What the hell is this?”

Prompto is standing with his back to him, presumably to give him privacy to change.

“A guard outfit. All the Glaives know each other so we have to give you something that won’t draw attention. The helmet’s on the floor.”

He looks down at his feet and sees the black helmet there.

He is about to protest, shrugs it off, and strips his clothes to get into the new ones. They’re not exactly a comfortable fit but they work well enough. He asks for Prompto’s help in getting the helmet on his head. It’s one you have to put the shirt on over to fit into properly so when Prompto turns around and he’s shirtless, he closes his eyes and awkwardly approaches, trying to touch as little of the Glaive as possible.

“Don’t like what you see?” he teases with a cheeky smile. Prompto’s having to stand on the tips of his feet to reach the top of Nyx’s head and is pointedly avoiding looking below his face or even at it.

“For a dead guy, you look pretty alive,” he mutters awkwardly, fastening a small belt beside his ear. Nyx catches his eye before he latches the helmet on completely.

“Not dead anymore, am I?’ he asks rhetorically with a wink.

 

The trip to Luna’s new room is strenuous. They have to pass through a busy area to reach their elevator and all of the new faces and technology makes Nyx nervous. They aren’t given many glances but a few people stop Prompto in the hall, asking for his permission for something or a signature on paper. They finally make it to their elevator and climb inside. Prompto hits a button that’s several floors higher than theirs, the door closing before anyone else can join their ride.

“You’re cool as a cucumber,” Nyx comments after he’s sure they’re on their way. “What do you do here at the Citadel?”

“Mainly I’m the Ambassador to Niflheim, but I also look over the infrastructure and rebuilding efforts across the city,” Prompto answers. Nyx double takes and sees no hint of a joke or overstatement.

“How the hell do you have time to sneak me around like this?”

Prompto shrugs. “I finished early today.”

He nods slowly, a newfound respect for the blond Glaive.

“How do you know Luna?” he inquires. “You were the one who found me outside the window. What were you doing in her room?”

Prompto doesn’t answer immediately, probably thinking how best to word his answer.

“I wanted to see what she was up to,” he answers. It would’ve sounded flimsy were his tone not so genuine.

“...What was she up to?”

“Sleeping. Noct was there, trying to show her the dream he had about you. He showed it to me but I don’t think it worked so well with her. Maybe a little  _ too  _ well.”

He smirks beneath his helmet.

“But whatever happened with you has something to do with her. I just know it,” Prompto adds, pulling at his jacket. Nyx feels his heart skip and he shifts his weight.

“She really talk about me that much? ‘m flattered. What did she say?”

Prompto turns his head to acknowledge him.

“I’ll let her talk for herself.”

 

When they reach her floor, Prompto carefully scans the area for cameras and suspicious Crownsguard. He sees no cameras but there is a Citadel guard standing outside her door. He turns to Nyx.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“Is there someone there?”

“An actual guard. Ravus wasn’t joking around about security I guess.”

The guard doesn’t acknowledge him until he’s right in front of him. He nods his head and the guard nods back.

“Is the Queen here?” he asks. The guard shakes his head in affirmation.

“She’s not taking visitors,” he replies.

“What about from a friend?” he asks, hopeful. The guard’s helmeted head moves back and forth. Slightly irritated, Prompto pulls out his ID card and shows it to him in hopes of swaying his opinion. The man leans forward, reads it, then leans back. He lifts one hand and raps the door twice. A few seconds later, a dark-haired woman with a kind face answers. Prompto nearly feels his jaw fall to the floor.

She turns to the guard with a smile.

“Leave us,” she says. The guard salutes and walks off (in the opposite direction of the elevator, thankfully,) leaving them alone.

Gentiana looks at Prompto, eyes opening when she greets him.

“O thee of insatiable curiosity,” she starts and Prompto feels a spike of cold jam into his spine. “For what purpose do you visit the Lady this day?”

He stutters, professional façade crumbling away in the face of surprise. He didn’t hear Nyx approach but looks and sees him standing beside him silently. Gentiana regards him with the same expression.

“Perhaps it was foretold,” she says, turning and reentering the room. The door remains open so Prompto follows her, Nyx behind him. They’re walking down a hallway with no doors, just sparse lighting.

“Ye though a man walks through the valley of death, that yet his soul remains steadfast in impression among the world. Or perchance mercy is a force beyond the scope of even the Gods’ understanding. For from death a man might return if a thousand hearts will it so, their honest wishes for the happiness of their Queen reaching beyond the grasps of the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveller returns.”

“Except you,” Prompto tells her. She doesn’t stop walking.

“From death I have learned what it is to live,” she responds. “And what it is to love. Though remains my heavenly body gone, and with it my Love, the will of Man is not so easily trumped. In their callings and praise I guide the Queen of Tenebrae so she might make right the oppressions of her country’s past. In her selflessness and past the outward reach of prophecies aforementioned she has retained the Oracle’s blood and uses it to rid mortal bodies of their afflictions. For this gesture she was rewarded, though her heart remains conflicted.”

“Conflicted?” Nyx asks. She stops walking and they stop, too. She turns to face them and slowly approaches the Glaive. She removes his helmet and touches his cheek, the iciness of her hands cooling his sweating face.

“Though her heart’s calling has reached across the bounds of time and circumstance, the unnatural made natural gives the Queen much pause. The actions which she has fought against, thought to be permanent, have reversed themselves. What should the Oracle make of this?”

She removes her hand and continues making her way down the hallway. The beads of sweat where she touched on Nyx’s face have frozen. He and Prompto exchange glances, following her.

“So she’s troubled,” Prompto clarifies. “Because Nyx died but came back? Like, she wished he’d never died, but now that’s he’s alive and nobody knows how that’s possible, she feels… sick?”

He sees the Goddess nod once.

“How are you still alive?” he follows up. “Because Luna needs you?”

“The young Oracle rests not, so I shall walk beside her until all is done.”

That explains Pryna and Umbra, then. Prompto thought they’d disappeared once Shiva and the Gods went back to sleep. Were they all asleep?

“It is but I who remains,” she answers as if reading his mind. “The Pyreburner’s fires have been quenched but the eyes of the Bladekeeper and the three watch the world of Man even as he slumbers. Through the soul of the Crystal is their will done, their purposes for this land fulfilled by the hand of the True King.”

Nyx leans in close to him. “Does she always talk in riddles like this?”

“I dunno where she and the Ring get it from.”

They reach a door and Gentiana turns to them, stepping away from the handle.

“Had you have brought the other defyer of death,” she begins. “You might learn of your circumstance and its rarity. For he who sacrificed his life for the True King did, as you have, with regard to his health none stands at his side now. The two so close to him and the Oracle have received blessings which compare not to the worlds of mortal men.”

She says nothing else, prompting Nyx to replace his helmet and open the door in front of them.

The room is awash with sylleblossoms, bright hues of blue petals and their green stems are everywhere in vases, in strings along the walls, and free petals are scattered around the carpet. Luna is having tea at the table in the center of the room. She’s setting her cup down when she looks up and smiles at Prompto.

“I’m glad you’ve come to see me. We have much to talk about,” she says, offering a chair across the table. He takes a few steps forward, stops, and gestures to the door behind them.

“Gentiana is alive,” is all he says. She looks past him then meets his eyes.

“Of course. I forget you two have not met for a very long time. She is my rock, it seems, and offers advice when I need it most. Surely I could have managed without her but I don’t believe I would have liked to.”

She looks at Nyx.

“And who might this be?”

He looks at Prompto, who looks back at him and nods. He reaches up and removes his helmet, moving the damp strands of hair sticking to his neck back and over his shoulders. Prompto looks at Luna but almost immediately looks away. Her eyes have fat tears in them, one side already spilling over and rolling down her cheek. Nyx takes a few, cautious steps towards her, laying his helmet on the floor. He kneels when he reaches her chair. She pulls one leg from beneath the table and then the other, turning sideways to face him. He takes both of her hands and holds them, face reverent.

“Hello,” she chokes, lips pinching together and spreading into a disbelieving smile.

“Hey, Princess,” he says gently. “I hear you’re a Queen now.”

He lifts one hand to his mouth and kisses it while keeping eye contact with her.

“Your Majesty,” he declares. She breaks into a sob and pushes her chair away, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He pulls her to his chest and buries his face into her neck, breathing in deeply. She’s crying freely now and running her hands over his black hair, pulling away at the elastic undergear he’s wearing to cover his neck. Luna opens her eyes and finds Prompto still standing in the room, speechless.

“Thank you,” she says. He feels his heart nearly stop from affection and can only nod back. He turns around and walks out the door, letting Gentiana close it behind him. As he’s walking he can feel a question nagging the back of his head and when Gentiana doesn’t answer it like she usually does when apparently being psychic, he stops and asks.

“Why me?” he asks, and it sounds confrontational so he adds on to it. “Why did I have those dreams, and why am I the only one willing to help him right now?”

“Because, young Traveller,” she says. ”The desires of your heart lie with assisting the disenfranchised of Man. The language of your soul iis action, and through taking it your calling is revealed. Helping others to find their Love is the path which leads you to your own. The messages come not from the Gods but from the heart of your King, and through his love is your own heart nurtured into fullness.”

It’s an explanation riddled with less riddles than they usually are so he takes it and leaves. He’s not sure what he should do now given the fact that he wasn’t even sure they’d make it this far. He takes a seat beside the door and waits for Nyx there. He’d have to return to his room sometime, right?

 

When Luna finally lets go of Nyx, she doesn’t move far. She lifts a hand and presses it to his face, doing the same with the other. He flinches slightly and she frowns.

“Why are you moving?” she asks.

‘’Cause last time you touched me there,” he answers, tapping her hand. “It wasn’t so nice.”

She squeezes his face between her hands and he laughs, running his hands up her arms and to her shoulders.

“Last time we met you weren’t this touchy.”

“I’ve since abandoned my reservations in private.”

She leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips.

“You’ve missed a great deal of me.”

He opens his eyes and slowly slides his hands down her shoulders, past her ribs to let them rest on her hips.

“I’ve missed all of you if I’m being honest. If I’d’ve know I’d be greeted like this...”

She leans in and ghosts his lips with her own.

“You would have returned to me sooner?”

“Would’ve fought my way to you if that’s what it took.”

She smiles and moves his hands from her hips, putting them back at his side. She stands and he watches her walk across the room. She stops in front of her vanity, hands clasped together in front of her.

“I fear,” she begins. “There is far too much for us to discuss in such a little time.”

She’s watching his reaction in the reflection.

“The Crownsguard will notice your absence. I do not wish to intrude upon Insomnia’s hospitality by moving its security risks.”

“You think I’m a security risk?”

Nyx gets to his feet and slowly approaches her. She turns from the vanity to face him. Up close and in daylight she can see that he’s aged like the rest of them on earth, finer wrinkles appearing beside his eyes when he narrows them.

“I know you are. Until we know for certain how you’ve come about, and if your presence is a fleeting thing, I’m afraid we cannot be together.”

He closes the distance and takes her hands in his.

“Luna, please.”

He squeezes them insistently, a pleading look in his eyes.

“I was given a second chance and I want to spend it with you. Queen or not, Glaive or not, I know you want to spend it with me, too.”

There’s his confidence shining through again. Luna purses her lips together and leans forward on her toes, planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Never doubt it, Nyx Ulric.”

It’s a finality, made all the more hurtful by her gentleness. He pulls her into his arms and rests his head on top of hers, careful to not disturb her carefully done hair. On his chest she can feel his heart beating below his ribs, warmth radiating through the uniform. It’s painful to let go. But when they do it’s with the promise that each wants what the other does, and that this will not be the last time they will hold one another in their arms.


	12. The Night Come to Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just a reminder that this fic does have a Mature rating!!

The next few days offer no explanations for Nyx’s mysterious appearance. They’ve managed to keep his existence under wraps but in doing so have limited their resources. Cor has a team searching the Royal Tombs for answers but they haven’t turned up anything of worth since departing. Gladio seems none the wiser to Nyx’s abscondment and Prompto hopes it stays that way, for his sake and the Glaives.

Ignis Scientia, however, is a harder man to fool.

He catches Prompto after hours at King Regis’ memorial outside the Citadel. Some hundreds of feet away there’s ongoing construction for the new memorial to honor those lost to the war and sequential survival efforts.

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” he asks. Prompto turns to him then back around. The memorial is beside one to King Mors.

“Noct woulda had one here too, huh?” he responds. Ignis joins him at his side and they gaze at the black alabaster sculpture of the late King.

“Fortunately for us, he doesn’t yet,” the General replies. Prompto gazes at him from the side of his eye. He’s wearing his visor even though the sun is mostly behind clouds today.

“Do they hurt?” he asks. Ignis regards him. Prompto taps beside his own glasses to signal what he means.

“On occasion.”

It’s the straightest answer he’s going to get. He turns and looks at the statue again, cramming his hands into his pocket.

“What of yours?”

Prompto knows he means his eyes.

“It’s been some time since you’ve worn your spectacles.”

“I try not to,” he answers honestly, taking the thick-rimmed glasses off and turning them in his hands. “They make me feel nerdy. I forgot to order my contacts, though.”

“I think they make you appear rather studious,” Ignis replies with a smile. Prompto replaces them and pushes them up his nose. Past Ignis’ visor he can see the light scarring left from the Ring and an unpleasant feeling develops in his stomach.

“Does the Ring talk to you like it does Noct?”   
“Certainly not. I haven’t worn it for some years now.”

“But you have dreams.”

“Sometimes. Slight premonitions, though usually far too vague to be of any substance.”

Ignis pushes up his own glasses with two fingers.

“I don’t need magic to tell when I’ve been lied to.”

Prompto huffs a self-deprecating laugh.

“It’s not lying if no one asked.”

“The purposeful withholding of information is lying, Prompto.”

“I guess it is.”

A beat of silence.

“It’s only a matter of time before Gladio catches wind.”

Prompto turns to him with a crooked smile.

“Luna and I won’t say anything if you won’t.”

Ignis smiles back. He reaches up and plucks his visor from his face, folding the arms and tucking them into his breast pocket. In the grey light of the sky his green eyes are dark against his handsome features. He’s gotten taller, Prompto realizes with envy. Everyone has but him.

“I’m not saying I approve of your actions but if it prevents a meltdown between our Guard Captain and resident Glaive then I suppose there’s no harm done.”

Prompto nods his head approvingly and turns back to the statue of King Regis.

“‘preciate it. Luna does, too. She and Nyx…”

He shakes his head at nothing.

“They’ve got some stuff to work out.”

“They’re not the only ones.”

His eyebrows crease as he tries to think of the meaning behind those words.

“I find thinking about relationships overcomplicates them,” the General adds. His eyes are narrowed against the light and Prompto thinks it must be uncomfortable.

“If you feel something, say so.”

“Took you long enough to do with Noct.”

The humored look on Ignis’ face comes and goes in a flash but Prompto can’t help but smile when he catches it. He’s embarrassed.

“Well, there’s something to be said when the object of your affections it heir to a kingdom. Years of silence on the matter only served to strengthen our relationship, rest assured.”

“You wouldn’t have said anything if he didn’t ask.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

“Perhaps not.”

The humor is gone from his face.

“I have realized I’ve been far too neglectful of my own emotional wellbeing in the past. It’s a flaw I continue to improve upon every day.”   
Prompto looks at the plaque in front of him, then back at Ignis.

“Tell me how you do it.”

Ignis inclines his head.

“How do you keep it all balanced: work, Noct, personal time? I have trouble going to bed sometimes ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about my job.”

“It’s certainly not easy when your friends are your job,” he answers. He reaches into his pocket and replaces his visor, apparently taking all he could take of the sun.

“But there is a balance to be found. I won’t tell you how to perform at your own workstation but you must draw a clear distinction between when that ends and your life begins. Loved ones are a pivotal role in that.”

Ignis pats his shoulder and signals him to follow. They start slowly walking around the park, green trees rustling in the wind. A jogger with a dog runs past them.

“Growing up, and now old, with the one I love have given me an advantage in this area. It wouldn’t be a far-venturing guess to say you’ve had no such luxury.”

Prompto shifts uncomfortably.

“I dunno if I love Gladio, I mean…”

Ignis levels him with a condescending smile.

“Who said we were talking about Gladiolus?”

He feels his ears turn hot and he looks away. Ignis lets the silence continue until he’s ready to speak.

“Maybe I do? That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Where my past with him ends and my future starts, if it ever will.”

“Communication is certainly key,” Ignis replies. “Have you two spoken about a possible relationship?”

Prompto jams his hands into his pockets and looks at his feet.

“He says he needs someone away from work. That he likes his job and his duties, but dating someone from the Glaives or the Citadel would be weird. I mean, we could work around it-- work, I mean. Make some kind of pact to not talk about it outside of it…”

He’s thinking aloud now. He looks up at Ignis and sees him looking straight ahead. There’s no judgment from him.

“I’d like to to try,” he admits. “I see what you and Noct have and I want to try. Gladio and I don’t have near the relationship you two do but that doesn’t mean we can’t give you a run for your money.”

Ignis laughs and it’s an enchanting sound. It’s the sound of an experienced person listening to a rookie figure it all out.

“I would like that,” he says. There’s a bonafide joy in his words that Prompto likes.

They walk in gratuitous silence for a while. A drop of rain lands on Prompto’s glasses and he  _ tsks _ , taking them off and shoving them into his pocket.

“Are you fine to see without them?” Ignis asks, concerned.

“I’m blind as a bat,” he replies. “Hate it when water gets on them, though, and I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“Let’s return to the Citadel, shall we? Rain hardly livens an occasion.”

 

They get back to the Citadel and see that the lights in the Captain’s office are still on. Ignis looks to Prompto.

“It seems someone is working late tonight.”

Prompto looks at the door, then to Ignis.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“Perhaps you should invite him out for drinks,” he offers. Prompto makes a disinterested face.

“I don’t feel like going out. I don’t have my contacts.”

“Letting him see another side of you will be beneficial to your relationship.”

He gives Ignis one last desperate look but he isn’t letting up.

“You both need to learn to communicate. This is a valid, non-verbal starting point.”

Prompto purses his lips. This is all too complicated.

Ignis bids him farewell and steps into the elevator, flashing Prompto a thumbs up before the doors close. He weakly raises a hand and turns back to the door, wiping off his glasses thoroughly before sliding them back onto his face.

He swipes his card and enters the office, shutting the door behind him. Gladio’s at his desk and looks up from his computer.

“Hey,” he greets. “Wassup?”

“You staying late tonight?” Prompto asks. Gladio blows out some air from his mouth in exasperation.

“Don’t need to but I wanna get stuff done. You finished for today?”

He nods. Gladio nods back approvingly and turns to his screen.

“Lucky. I think you have more paperwork than me.”

He laughs for the sake of conversation and leans on the back of one of the desk’s chairs.

“So, uh, you wanna get a coffee?”

Gladio doesn’t stop typing but looks at him.

“This late?”

“I figured you could use a break since everyone else has gone home. We can get decaf.”

Gladio laughs teasingly and leans back in his chair.

“We live in the city that never sleeps, and you wanna get decaf coffee?”

He shakes his head.

“Iggy’d hurt you if he heard you talkin’ like that.”

Prompto smiles and looks down.

“We can get something stronger if you want.”

He looks up and sees Gladio regarding him. He sits up and types a few things, shuts his computer down, and stands. He takes his jacket from the coat rack and swings it across his shoulders.

“Tell ya what. We go get coffee if you come to my place afterwards. Just got a new entertainment system installed and I wanna try it out. You up for it?”

He feels a tight elation rise in his throat.

“Sure,” he answers. Gladio pats his arm and moves past him to exit the room.

 

Insomnia’s nightlife is one even the darkness can’t compete with. With power restored all across the city and people in need of entertainment it wasn’t long before the arcades, bars, and clubs opened up for business along its downtown. Prompto never found himself in this area of the city. In fact, he never went anywhere except for to and from the Citadel from his apartment. He and Gladio are walking down a humid street, the latter carrying his jacket slung over his shoulder. He claims to know a good coffee shop around here but all Prompto sees are small restaurants serving skewers and guards outside of buildings playing pulsing music. Clouds pass overhead and it looks like the rain has gone around them.

“I’m not seeing a coffee shop, Big Guy,” he comments and pushes up his glasses.

“Relax,” Gladio replies. “It’s kinda unassumin’. I’m sure you’ll miss it even with your giant glasses.”

Prompto doesn’t say anything so Gladio nudges him.

“It was just a joke. I haven’t seen you wear ‘em in a while. What’s the occasion?”

“I forgot to renew my subscription,” he admits for the second time today. “I’ll do it tonight so I don’t have to keep taking them on and off.”

“Why do you do that?”

“I don’t like wearing them. Iggy says they make me look smart but they’re heavy. Plus they make me feel old.”

“Well, you are old,” Gladio says matter-of-factly. Prompto pushes him and he laughs.

“Just accept it,” he continues. “Ain’t gettin’ any easier.”

“You say that like we’re past our prime,” he accuses. Gladio grabs his arm and he stiffens, eyes going wide. Prompto expects him to get angry but he just points to a business far back into the wall with a small line of people in front.

“Over here.”

They wait their turn at the shop, Prompto taking in the details. They have some pretty nice gear for a small shop in such an inauspicious location.

“Lot of folks come here for the coffee?” he asks. Gladio shrugs.

“It’s a weird location, but Insomnia’s crowded for such a big city. Real estate don’t come cheap.”

It’s their turn. Gladio asks for a large coffee, black. Prompto orders a decaf: two sugars and cream. Gladio smirks when they get their styrofoam cups, eyeing the light-colored liquid in Prompto’s.

“Thought you’d at least try to impress me by getting it black,” he comments. Prompto blows on the top and covers it with a lid.

“I stopped trying to impress you when I saw you lift stuff twice my weight,” he replies and takes a sip. It burns his mouth and Gladio laughs when he fans his tongue.

They take a short walk around the block and make comments as they pass by the stores. As they get further from the street more and more adult-themed advertisements pop up, alerting them to various clubs, brothels, and some more unsavory establishments.

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Prompto asks, laughing to himself. Gladio quirks an eyebrow and looks down at him.

“Ask me that again when you’re not wishing this was one.”

He laughs again but nervously uses his fingers to adjust his glasses. Stupid things keep falling down.

They pass in front of a bar surrounded by bright lights. The door is open and there’s a band playing in front of a crowd, much smaller than Prompto would expect for the start of the weekend. The door greeter eggs them into coming in, charming them with promises of cheap drinks and live entertainment.

“No clumsy assholes runnin’ into you, no line for the bathroom,” he lists. “And the ladies have small pickin’s so who knows? You might get lucky.”

“We’re good, man,” Gladio answers. The guy looks at Prompto.

“What about you? Easy fun for a Friday night!”

He waves a hand politely.

“No, no thanks. I have plans.”

“Oh?” he asks, looking back and forth between them. He’s being nice about his assumptions but it makes Prompto’s face feel hot. Before he can say anything else a woman comes stumbling out of the bar, plastic cup in hand. She wobbles past the door greeter and he reaches out to stabilize her but she brushes him off. She starts making her way past where they’re standing and does a pretty good job of it, but loses her balance halfway there and carreens into Gladio. The plastic cup explodes against his chest and soaks his shirt.

“Shit,” she slurs, holding onto him for balance. “Sorry, man.”

He has his hands on her arms and is trying to keep her upright. She is absolutely blitzed.

“It’s no biggie,” he responds, keeping her at a distance. “Maybe you shouldn’t take one for the road.”

She wobbles on her feet, looking up at him with squinted eyes.

“You look familiar,” she says after a moment. She lifts a finger and points it at him. “‘re you a model?”

Prompto stifles his smile and takes her by the shoulders, coaxing her hands off of Gladio. He leads her to a bench and she roughly plops down, pushing her hair behind her ears and sniffing.

“I think he’s a model,” she says quietly to herself. Prompto stands and asks the guy at the door for some napkins, returning to Gladio with a couple in hand.

“Thanks,” he mutters, mopping up the mess. Prompto helps him, a smile crossing his face.

“Insomnia’s top model.”

“You know it.”

“Need more napkins?”

“Nah. We’re goin’ to my place anyways so I’ll just wait to throw it in the wash.”

Prompto takes the almost-empty coffee from his hand and throws both of their cups away. He glances at the lady on the bench. She’s lying down face first and snoring. He’s about to suggest they make sure she sobers up and gets home when the guy from the door chimes in, earlier quip forgotten.

“I’ll wake her up in a minute,” he says. “She came with a guy so he can take care of her.”

“Thanks,” he responds. Another guy, this one shorter than but obviously not as smashed as the lady, joins them outside and looks around. Gladio jabs a thumb at the woman and he sighs in relief. He shakes her awake and hauls her to the car on his shoulders, apologizing to Gladio for the spilled drink.

“Least she has you to keep her from bigger trouble,” he comments and the guy laughs worriedly in response. Prompto nudges him and they make their way back to the car. They’re almost there when the sky opens up and begins pouring down on them. Prompto grabs for a newspaper to cover his head and Gladio uses his Glaive’s jacket as an umbrella. They climb into Gladio’s car in a hurry to get out of the rain. When Prompto shuts his door he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Around them, past the sheet of white rain, vendors and customers alike are rushing to get their fixtures and themselves under cover.

“Looks like nobody anticipated the rain,” Gladio comments. Prompto peels off his jacket and drapes it over his lap to dry in front of the car’s heater. It’s mostly silent except for the vents and the patter of rain of the roof. Prompto looks at Gladio, adrenaline flushed out and feeling… happy?

“Your place to warm up?” he suggests. Gladio nods in approval. Prompto turns to fasten his seatbelt and spies, in the backseat of the car, an umbrella. He pauses, then gives Gladio a questioning look.

“So  _ you _ anticipated the rain…” he starts. Gladio turns on his blinker and pulls out.

“The sky was pretty easy to read today. Just ‘cause the sun broke out doesn’t mean the weather was gonna flip around and stay clear.”

“Why didn’t you bring it with us?”

Gladio shrugs. “Forgot. You gotta admit, it was fun, though.”

_ Rain hardly livens an occasion. _

It’s coming down pretty heavily as they drive. Gladio flips through the radio channels until he settles on one with the fewest commercials. Prompto listens closely to the beat and smiles when he recognizes it, reaching for the dial and turning it up over the sound of the rain.

“You know this one?” Gladio asks. Prompto nods and taps along on his legs.

“Yeah, from before all the radios went down. You remember that gas station in Cleigne we always stopped at?”

“Yeah?” Gladio answers.

“‘member when Noct ran into that fixture of Ebony and sent it flying everywhere, and the cashier got so mad she threatened to take Noct outside?”

Gladio snorts. “I do.”

Prompto continues, trying to talk through his laughter. “And so Iggy goes up to her and is like, _ Ma’am I understand your frustration but if you hit him I shall be forced to intervene _ . And she straight-up takes a swing at him?”

Gladio’s laughing and smacking the wheel in response. He’s nearly wheezing when he talks.

“And. So. Iggy shoos us all out… and the lady is coming after him… and he’s gonna fight her but her boss comes out…”

They approach a red light, and Gladio steps on the breaks a little too hard, sending Prompto forward in his seat. They’re both laughing too hard to care, though. Gladio’s shoulders are shaking and his head is resting on the steering wheel while Prompto is doubled over and holding his stomach. He hasn’t laughed this hard in ages.

Gladio straightens up in time for the light to turn green, running a hand down his face.

“Dude,” Prompto starts again, gripping the dashboard and taking in big breaths. “Noct was so embarrassed. He couldn’t look at Iggy for, like, a week.”

“Then when he finally got over it he got kicked by that Chocobo,” Gladio adds, and Prompto’s laughing again. “And he couldn’t patch up his ass himself so Iggy had to do it for him.”

“Oh man, my stomach,” Prompto wheezes. “No way that guy’s King now.”

“And dating Iggy.”

“Ohh noooo.”

“Bet he sees a lot more of his ass now than then.”

Prompto cackles the rest of the way to Gladio’s, hardly noticing when he pulls into the garage and turns the ignition off. He’s laying his head on the dashboard when he realizes they’ve stopped and lifts it slowly to look around the dark area. Gladio is just watching him.

“What?” he asks, taking off his glasses and wiping a tear from his eye.

“Nothin’,” he responds and unfastens his seatbelt. “C’mon, I wanna show you the new system.”

 

Prompto’s never been inside of Gladio’s house, before or after the fall. He has a feeling it hasn’t changed much since it was his father’s. It’s moderately stylish and well-lit inside. He scrapes his boots on the mat and undoes the latches, pulling them off of his feet and setting them beside the door. Gladio does the same, then walks into the living area, Prompto trailing behind.

“Make yourself at home,” Gladio says. “I’m gonna go throw this shirt into the washer.”

“‘Mmkay.”

He looks around Gladio’s house and takes in the tasteful wood paneling, the carpeted stairwell, the large painting above the fireplace. He hangs his coat on the rack by the door and combs a hand through his hair in an attempt to spike it back up. He turns and observes the speakers mounted along the wall and wonders where the TV is.

“What do you think?”

He turns and sees Gladio in a doorway beside the fireplace. He’s leaning against the door, arms crossed over his bare, hulking chest.

“It’s definitely a dude’s place,” he replies. Gladio pushes himself from the wall and pulls a white t-shirt over his head, smoothing it the rest of the way. If Prompto hadn’t already seen him shirtless a hundred times before he might be embarrassed. His muscles were and are always something to be impressed by, however. The thin shirt barely stretches over his abs and if he flexes he might tear the sleeves, Prompto’s sure. What he’s embarrassed about is how unfairly nice his uniform slacks make his butt look when he leans over to pick up the remote. He stands and opens two of the panels along the far wall to reveal a television and even more speakers. Prompto whistles.

“Nice,” he offers. “King’s Shield must pay pretty well.”

Gladio hits a button on the remote and the screen flashes blue, then black. A logo appears in the middle of it for a few seconds as it completes its start-up.

“Some of it’s leftover from my Dad,” Gladio explains. “The TV is new but the speakers aren’t. I just hung them up on the wall and got the connection running for a surround-sound type of audio.”

“Not a bad job.”

Prompto looks at the placement of the speakers.

“You hung them just right so their noise will bounce around instead of flying off towards the kitchen or something.”

“Sure did.”

“How’s the audio delay?”

“Fine. Got ‘em calibrated last week. Should be all good to go for our movie tonight.”

“And what fine film have you procured for us?”

Gladio smirks and points at him.

“Haven’t seen you in this good a mood in a while.”

Prompto shrugs. “I have my moments.”

Gladio steps towards the wall and plucks out a small Blu-ray case from in-line. He moves back to Prompto and holds it out in front of him.

Prompto squints, then realizes he’s got water specks on his glasses from the earlier rain. He plucks them off and takes the case with his free hand.

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“I thought you hated these kinds of movies?”

“That was before I came to appreciate the finer points of cheesy zombie cinema.”

“Dude, you know this movie is, like, four decades old now, right? It’s older than we are.”

He hands the case back to Gladio and huffs onto one lense of his glasses, rubbing it with the hem of his shirt. He repeats it for the other before setting them back onto his nose. Gladio takes the movie from its case and slips it into the TV’s disc reader. It buffers for a couple of seconds before turning black. He picks up the remote again and hits a different button. This one dims the house’s lights and he smirks, tossing the remote onto the couch and spreading his arms.

“Just ‘cause it’s old doesn’t mean it’s not awesome.”

Prompto scoffs as Gladio plops down onto the sofa and turns the volume up. He pats the seat next to him twice and stretches his arm across the back of the couch. Prompto moves around to the front and settles in next to him, legs crossed on the cushion. The title screen appears and it’s in black and white, the name of the film dripping green slime. He laughs and it surprises him, the nostalgia of high school flooding into his mind.

The movie is one he’s seen before but not for a very long time. Some of the scenes catch him off guard, so much so that he ends up scooting to the edge of his seat and leaning towards the television, attention monopolized by the terrible acting and amateur lighting of the shots. After a chase scene ends, Prompto tunes into his environment and hears rain pattering on the roof again. He glances around him for a blanket, and not seeing one, decides to grab his jacket from the coat rack. He shifts his legs to stand but feels something soft being drooped around his shoulders. He looks beside him at Gladio, who is watching the screen intently. Prompto pulls the blanket closer around his shoulder gratefully and turns his attention back to the movie. He feels warmer but dissatisfied somehow. He opens the blanket and stretches one side of it over Gladio’s shoulders. The taller man looks away from the screen and smiles, scooting Prompto closer and pulling the blanket the rest of the way. He keeps his arm behind his back and Prompto lays his head on his upper arm. Much better.

When it ends, Gladio shifts his arms to let Prompto know he wants to move. He lifts his head and Gladio stretches his arms into the air and grunts, a hand moving to his beard to scratch lazily.

“That was pretty good,” he comments. He leans back and rests his arms on the back of the couch again and Prompto takes it as an invitation to scoot even closer. He looks up at him and Gladio smiles down.

“What did you think?”

“Awesome. I could hear every crackle of their microphones and terrible acting in surround sound.”

Gladio snorts. He must have reapplied deodorant when he changed shirts because he smells fresh. Prompto instinctively reaches an arm around his back and puts the other on his belly, seeking warmth. Gladio jolts and takes the hand from his belly in both of his.

“Woah,” he starts. “Your hands are really cold.”

“Sorry,” Prompto says. He blows warm air onto them and rubs them in between his own large palms, laughing into them.

“At least warm ‘em up before you go stickin’ ‘em on me like that.”

Prompto pulls the other one from his back and sits up to offer it. Gladio takes it and repeats his warming, massaging up and down his wrist and lower arm. It’s friendly, protective, and romantic all at once. Prompto purses his lips slightly before speaking.

“Can I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“Have the Glaives really not found anything out about…”

He pauses and considers Gladio.

“You know who?”

Gladio doesn’t stop rubbing his hands but frowns. He and Nyx obviously still weren’t on good terms.

“Not that I’ve heard. We’ve sent teams to the tombs, to Angelguard-- anywhere we can to figure out where the hell he came from.”

“Noct says he came from the Crystal,” he offers. “Isn’t that enough?”

Gladio smooths over his knuckles contemplatively. His hands are sufficiently warm now but Gladio is still warmer. He presses a kiss to the top of his hand, his beard tickling Prompto’s skin. He wonders if Ignis appreciates Noct’s beard like he does Gladio’s, or if he’s constantly asking him to shave it like a married couple would.

After a moment of silence, Gladio answers.

“I don’t think that’s enough evidence.”

“Shouldn’t it be? I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, but we should find out something quick. He’s going crazy in that room by himself.”

“How do you know?”

“Dude. I took him food one time and I can tell he’s bored out of his head. I wouldn’t doubt he picks fights with you just ‘cause you’re fun to aggravate.”

Gladio smirks meanly and pulls on Prompto’s nose. He swats his hand away and Gladio repositions it over his, gently pulling it to his mouth and planting another kiss on his knuckles. He maintains eye contact and something passes between them that Prompto can’t put a descriptor to. He lets himself be pushed down onto the couch and watches as Gladio settles himself on top, knees beneath his thighs and hands intertwined with his above his head. He leans down and kisses him on the mouth. Prompto holds back a noise of appreciation but Gladio stills hears it, taking it as a sign to continue. He releases Prompto’s hands and trails them down his body, first over his chest, then down his ribs, waist, and landing in his hips. He kneads at them and Prompto wiggles them slightly in an invitation to recommence. All the while his hands are exploring he’s laying hot, heavy kisses onto Prompto’s lips, slow and deliberate in their placement. He feels excited and placated all at once, hands drifting up his large arms and snaking around his neck. He pushes up on his knees and moves his hips up and down testingly. Gladio responds favorably with a grunt and pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes opening and smoldering. He lets his lip go and dives back in to kiss him more, one hand pushing under Prompto’s shirt and pulling it halfway up his torso. Prompto does the same and there’s heat between their bellies when they make contact. Gladio’s muscles are like chiseled marble, hard against his own midsection. He’s put on good weight since working full time at the Citadel and for once in his life Prompto isn’t ashamed of his body. He’s tight and toned everywhere he needs to be. He could use to be a little taller in his opinion, as every other Glaive was probably over six feet and it totally wasn’t fair that Noct grew and he didn’t, but a guy can dream. He doesn’t feel envy for Gladio’s impressive physique but he definitely wants it closer to him.

Gladio pulls his mouth away and Prompto all but gasps for air. He feels his shirt be pushed further up his chest and Gladio scoots downwards, mouth finding patches of skin to latch on to. Prompto closes his eyes and relishing in the wetness of his tongue and the drag of his fingers along his body, from the gentle pressure on his pecs to the hands pulling his legs further onto his lap. There’s a tightness in his pants that he feels and wants to release but there’s nothing of substance to rub against. Gladio’s got his mouth set to work forming a small hickey just below his ribs and his hands kneading circles into his ass, tugging and pulling at his trousers but not pulling them down. He whines in frustration and Gladio breathes against his skin, warmth washing over him for an instant before turning cold in the living room air. He feels goosebumps prickle over his skin and down his spine when he shifts and his groin makes contact with Gladio’s.

The Shield trails up his chest and kisses the tender flesh of his neck, his weight and own tight pants a relief against Prompto’s body. He lifts his head and grazes a finger over the front of Prompto’s zipper, barely applying pressure against the growing bulge beneath the fabric.

“You wanna go there?” he asks and Prompto already feels overwhelmed. He swallows and searches Gladio’s face, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck.

“It’s been a while,” he answers honestly. Way too long in his opinion. Gladio presses down with his palm and Prompto squirms, his face turning warm when Gladio smiles at him and bites his lip. There’s a  _ Me, too _ written on his face but he doesn’t say it.

“I’ll give you my hand if you give me yours,” he offers instead. A drop of excitement hits his cock and he nods his head vigorously against the cushion below. Gladio nods back and lifts a finger.

“One condition, though. We don’t do it on the couch.”

He snorts good naturedly.

“What are we, 15?”

“If I were 15, I’d know better than to put out on the first date.”

Prompto swallows nervously. Gladio massages him through his trousers and he clenches his teeth, the friction great but not enough. Definitely not enough. He opens his eyes and relaxes his jaw to speak.

“Thought you said this wasn’t a date.”

“What if I wanted it to be?”

“It’s only a date,” he starts, moving his hips to try and match Gladio’s rubbing. “If both people agree to it.”

He seems to think on it.

“But, if it’s only two people hangin’ out…”

“Then there’s no shame in helping one another out.”

Gladio nods, a little too seriously, and Prompto barks a laugh. He sees what looks like confusion on Gladio’s face and smiles at him, hoping it’s seductive enough.

“C’mon, Big Guy,” he challenges.

“Show me to your bed.”


	13. Reckoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update!! I usually don't work on Mondays but today was an exception.

If I had you at my mercy there's no telling what I'd do

I'd sit and make you listen for an hour, maybe two

And then you'd know I need you everyday that rolls around

And your feet would walk on velvet with gold all over the ground

-Johnny Cash, “Forever Words”

  
  


It’s Saturday, so normal work activities are on hold until the end of the weekend. Gladio opens his eyes and sees the red of his bedside clock blinking 7:23 AM. It’s later than he’d normally sleep in. He rubs his legs back and forth for a minute before turning to his other side. It’s empty, but the blankets are pulled back where someone had gotten up from lying down. Hopefully, it was a stylish blond with a cute face. Hopefully, he’s still here.

Gladio flips the comforter over and stretches his whole body, feet nearly touching the end of the bed. He looks down and sees he’s naked as the day he was born, the morning chill settling along his limbs and creeping into his body. He sits and stands up, finding his pants and a shirt to throw on to keep the cold away. He adjusts the thermostat in the hallway and saunters to the top of the stairs. It’s all dark and quiet except for where the blue ON/OFF switch of the TV blinks to indicate it’s on sleep mode. He pads down and shuts it off with the remote, then closes the panels over it. He makes his way back upstairs and flips on the light switch in the kitchen. He sees that the garage door is unlocked and a faint light bleeds in from behind the curtain covering its small window. He opens it and steps through. It’s all dark and his car is parked where it was last night. He shuts it and looks around the kitchen. Where else could Prompto be?

He looks in the guest bedrooms, passes by the bathroom, then checks the laundry room. His wash sits finished and waiting to be dried.

Gladio returns to the living room and scratches the back of his head. He spots where the blinds have been moved on the wall opposite him and realizes, with a smile, he’s forgotten the balcony. He crosses over to it and pulls them aside. Prompto’s leaning on the wooden rail with his back to him. He moves the blinds completely and opens the glass door, watching as Prompto turns to acknowledge him with a nod. The smell of smoke hits his nose.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” he says. The cigarette is resting between his lips. The smell is harsh and acrid compared to the morning dew.

“Only sometimes,” he replies and takes a drag, eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t know why I even do it at all.”

“‘m sure you could afford a better brand than that.”

“I buy shitty so the taste keeps me from doing it all the time.”

It’s a weird logic, if you could call it that. Gladio finds the ashtray on the table and brings it over to the rail. Prompto’s dressed in his same Glaive outfit minus the jacket but is barefoot. The balcony is still damp from last night’s rain. He looks around them and doesn’t see any movement from his neighbors, their windows dark and still in the early morning. He leans on his arms and studies Prompto’s face.

“You seemed pretty happy last night. Where’s that mood gone to?”

It’s meant teasingly, but he remembers how startled Prompto had been when he’d tried to take off the bracelets from around his wrist and feels slightly guilty for it. He takes his left hand and kisses the star tattooed at the junction of his wrist to break the awkwardness.

“I got a lot on my mind,” he says, and it sounds like a finality. Gladio sighs and falls silent, looking across the lawn and to the street.

“If you don’t wanna tell me about the stuff under your bracelets, that’s fine. It’s my bad for not asking before I--”

“It’s not that.”

He doesn’t mean it rudely. He stubs out the cigarette and turns to Gladio. He reaches out and pulls Gladio closer to him, his cheek resting against his chest.

“I’ll tell you about it when I know what it’s all about.”

It sounds like an excuse. He continues.

“But you gotta promise me something.”

“What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll find a way for Nyx and Luna to be together.”

Gladio sighs and pats his back, reaching around and tussling his blond hair between his fingers.

“I can’t make that promise. I only know what we find out. I can ask Iggy to get in on it, but even then, I dunno if what he finds’ll be worth much.”

Prompto doesn’t move against him. Gladio tightens his grip and looks at the sky.

“You’re one stubborn guy, you know that?”

He’s not sure if he’s saying it about Prompto, Nyx, or himself.

 

For once, Noctis can’t see his dream. He hears brief pieces of audio passing him by and sees faint flashes of light, but it’s as if he’s locked in a small, dark room, and all the activity is happening outside. The air is simultaneously cramped and endless, but it’s interesting enough that he doesn’t feel fear because of it.

He wakes to a pressure atop his head. It takes a moment for his vision to clear and with it the rest of his senses. The pressure turns out to be a hand gently running along the top of his hair, pushing strands of it behind his ear and stopping to caress his jaw. The hand is connected to Ignis, who is lying in bed facing him. He’s wearing the softest smile Noct can imagine, his eyes and hair brilliantly illuminated by the morning light spilling in from the window. He pushes his face further into his pillow then opens one eye to peek at him.

“Morning,” he says from the pillow, smile hidden but obvious from the squish of his cheeks and wrinkles beside his eyes.

“Good morning,” Ignis whispers. He scoots closer to Noct and pulls the blanket up to his own face, covering everything but his eyes. Noct searches his and they can only keep it up for a few more seconds before giggling at one another. Noct reaches out and pulls himself to Ignis, folding his arms around his back and burying his face into his chest.

“It’s Saturday,” he says.

“It’s Saturday,” Ignis repeats lightly. Saturdays are good days. Saturdays mean easy days and early nights for the King and General of Lucis. Iggy kisses the top of Noct’s head and hugs him close, eyes closing in appreciation of the sleepy warmth of his limbs. He breathes in and reopens his eyes, running a hand in slow circles around Noct’s back.

“Noct?”

“Hmm?”

He hasn’t moved or opened his eyes, telling Iggy he’s plenty comfortable right where he is.

“Would you care for breakfast?”

“Made by you?”

“Indeed.”

That gets his attention. He lifts his head and squints against the light reflecting off the wall. With his squinty eyes and tousled hair he looks every bit as Noct as Noct can look. He’s interested in breakfast, but puts his head back down into Iggy’s chest and squeezes him once before relaxing again.

“‘m so comfy, though.”

“There’s bacon in the kitchen.”

He makes a long sound of resistance but Ignis knows he’s sold. He untangles his arms and pushes away. Noct falls limp like a cooked noodle, and although it takes some fanangling, Ignis is up and walking to the restroom to look at least somewhat presentable. There’s minimal staff on duty today but he thinks, as he combs his hair and washes his face, he’ll use the kitchen nearest to their rooms to accrue some privacy. He wets and taps his razor against the sink, gliding it smoothly over his cheeks and jaw. His facial hair has always been very light but he’s never liked the feeling of stubble on his face. Growing any sort of mustache or beard takes time and has too many awkward phases for his liking, regardless.

He rinses and splashes after-shave along his jaw, towelling off before buttoning up his shirt. He takes inventory in the mirror.

Hair? Check. Shirt and shoes? Check. Glasses? Don’t need them.

He opens the bathroom door and steps into the bedroom. Noct is sitting on the edge of the bed tying his shoelaces. He’s put on slacks and has his shirt over his arms but it’s unbuttoned. Ignis  _ tsks _ lightly and approaches him with arms crossed.

“You’re going to wrinkle it if you sit on it like that,” he says. Noct looks up with a smile.

“Then what would become of Ignis’ hard work?”

He stands and closes the distance between them, hands moving over the buttons of his white shirt. He sticks a finger under the top one and plucks it open, eyes finding Ignis’ and eyebrow raising slowly, teasingly. He pops the second one, then the third. He pushes his hands under the fabric and runs them along the material of his undershirt, bottom lip jutting out slightly.

“Disappointing,” he sighs, hands dipping between the button-up and tank top to rub at his lower back. Ignis reaches up and runs his hands along Noct’s arm, pulling him close. His head bumps into his chest and he stays there, nuzzling into it before moving upwards, drawn in by the scent of cologne and after-shave. He takes a deep breath at the base of Ignis’ neck, one hand cupping his jaw and running a thumb over his cheekbone.

“Smells good,” he utters, then pulls away to meet his gaze. “Feels good, too.”

Ignis takes his hand and kisses it once.

“You’ll drive me to distraction.”

He reaches down and begins buttoning Noct’s shirt up, the two of them maintaining eye contact.

“Then who would make breakfast?” Noct asks hypothetically. Part of him says screw breakfast, there’s something much more appetizing in front of him. The other knows not yet. There’s a time and a place.

 

When Ignis leaves to make food, Noct traverses back to his own room and checks his phone, scrolling past messages and weather updates. He sees one from Prompto with a photo attached and taps on it. When it’s enlarged he can see it’s a scene from a black and white movie, captioned  _ ring any bells? _

He types back a quick response.

_ where the hell did you get that old thing? _

He closes his phone and sets it on a table. Deciding to shower, he undresses and hangs up his clothes. He walks past the mirror and stops to check himself out. Still pretty fit, still pretty hot. He’ll need a haircut soon.

He turns on the shower to let it warm up and steam begins to fill the room, clouding the mirror. He turns on the heater and watches as it dissipates, the same image as before reflected back at him. He touches his fingers to his chest, then his beard. His eyes find the electric clippers, then the razor. Glancing back and forth between them, then at himself, he grabs the razor and shaving cream and sets to work.

 

“Call the King!”

It’s what Ignis hears most loudly when he answers his ringing phone, taking the hot pan off of the burner and switching off the stove.

“Marshal?” he asks and hears a grunt then a voice.

“Ignis, you at the Citadel?”

“Yes. What’s happened?”

There’s a commotion and Cor yells something away from the receiver.

“We’re not exactly doing a good job of keeping that Glaive a secret anymore. Libertus just stormed into the Crownsguard training area and demanded we give him you-know-who. The rest of the Glaives are confused but none of them seem to know what he’s talking about. Lucky for us, huh?”

Ignis isn’t sure he’d call it luck.

“Where is he now?”

“We got him calm enough to sit down but he’s got a fire in his britches that’s gonna burn through the seat if we don’t do something. There’s no need to bother His Majesty, but I think you outta come down here. Gladiolus, too.”

“I’ll get a hold of him and Prompto,” he decides. “I will let his His Majesty know and see what he wishes done.”

“Thanks, Ignis. Better hurry.”

The line goes dead and he ends the call. He quickly cleans up and sets the somewhat-finished breakfast under a lid to keep it from the elements and grabs his phone again, making for the elevator. It takes a few rings for Gladio to pick up.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Gladiolus.”

“That’s never good. What’s up, Iggy?”

“Is Prompto with you?”

There’s a hesitation before he answers.

“Yeah, he’s here.”

“I need you both at the Citadel at once. There’s been a disturbance.”

“Is everyone alright?” he asks concernedly.

“Libertus has just shown up and is causing a scene over Nyx. I’m on my way to tell Noct but you two should be here as well. We don’t want word of this reaching further than it has to.”

“Gotcha. We’re on our way.”

He ends the call as the elevator doors open and steps out into the hallway. He uses his keycard and opens his own door, stopping to look around.

“Noct?” he calls and there’s no answer. The lights are off and there’s no noise. He passes through the door that connects their rooms, which has been left open, and calls his name once again.

There’s shuffling from the bathroom and Noct emerges, shirtless with a towel around his shoulders.

“Oh, hey. That was quick.”

Ignis is about to tell him about Libertus but takes note of Noct’s face. It’s beardless and perfectly smooth, his hair and eyebrows groomed.

“Your beard.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah. Figured it was time for a change,” Noct answers and rubs his chin for emphasis. He’d forgotten just how young Noctis is. Ignis had hardly noticed the resemblance between he and King Regis until he grew a beard, taking on the late King’s image almost exactly. Without it, however, he’s reminded of just how much of his own man Noctis is. A firm, shapely jaw, with raven hair pushed behind his ears and gently pouty lips reminiscent of his days as the Prince. His eyes finds Ignis’ and the warmth behind them leaves him frozen in place. In his presence, he feels transfixed.

“I don’t see any bacon.”

Ignis blinks quickly several times and moves to adjusts his non-existent glasses.

“Apologies, Majesty. I received a call from Cor. He tells me that Libertus has arrived in search of his companion.”

“Nyx?”

Ignis nods. Noct looks away, eyebrows furrowing.

“Lemme guess, he caused a scene?”

“The Marshal wouldn’t have called otherwise.”

Noct nods in understanding. Ignis continues.

“I’ve called Prompto and Gladio. The Marshal has him satiated for now but for how long he will be complacent, I don’t know.”

“You think I should go down there?”   
“You can simply give us the word and we’ll give him clearance to see the man, however it’s not for certain we can obtain his silence on the matter. The choice is yours.”

Noct considers his choices. He pulls the towel from his shoulders and goes back into the bathroom where Ignis hears the rustling of fabric. He pads back out, buttoning up a black shirt, and stops in front of him.

“Well, it’s a good thing I showered, then. Let’s get dressed and go down.”

“Certainly.”

 

Noct’s phone rings as he and Ignis makes their way down to Libertus and Cor. It’s Prompto.

“You guys down here yet?” he asks. Noct shakes his head despite the fact that he’s on the phone.

“Almost there. How’s it look?”

“Uh, not good. Some of the Glaives have taken his side and wanna know where Nyx is. Apparently some of them were around for the city’s fall and thought he died when they couldn’t find his body.”

“Well, they’re not wrong. There’s just one little hiccup in that, though.”

“Right. This guy’s nothing but trouble. Hey, I’ll see you when you’re down here.”

“Sure. Catch you then.”

He hangs up and is about to put his phone away when it rings again. He looks at the caller ID and answers it immediately.

“Luna?”

“Noctis? What’s the commotion at the Citadel?”

“Where are you?”

“Just outside. Ravus and I are visiting the memorial site. I do hope it’s nothing serious, however more and more rumors are beginning to fly among the security.”

He groans, annoyed.

“Tell them it’s nothing bad. There’s just been a mix-up.”

“Noctis,” she says. “What is truly going on?”

“It’s Libertus,” he answers. “He knows about Nyx.”

“Was it not your order to send word?”

“Yeah, it was. But now he’s here demanding to see him, without letting us know he was even back in Insomnia. He’s got the other Glaives riled up, too.”

She pauses, then sighs into the receiver.

“Please be gentle with him. He’s waited longer than any of us for his friend to return.”

“Will do. Thanks, Luna.”

He ends the call and stuffs it back into his pocket. He didn’t bother to put on his King’s raiment but is in a black suit with the Crown of Lucis atop his head. Ignis is wearing his Kingsglaive uniform and adjusts his visor with leather-gloved fingers. He must have a headache already today.

The door opens on the first floor and they spill out into the hallway. To their left they hear voices from behind the door to the training area. Bad luck for them, but good for Libertus, that the Citadel’s gyms are usually full this time of morning with off-duty Glaives. They walk quickly and push open both doors. There’s yet another hallway before they reach the main area. Ignis pulls out his keycard and the lock flashes green, the both of them entering with little hesitation. Glaives are gathered in a circle and their bodies snap to attention as Lucis’ King and General make their way to the center. There, Cor stands in front of Libertus, who is held back physically by Gladio. Prompto glances Noct’s way and seems relieved to see him. The room has fallen mostly silent except for Libertus’ sounds of struggle against the Captain.

“Marshal,” Noct calls, and all heads turn towards him. Cor bows at the waist and he nods his direction, then makes eye contact with Libertus. He fights against Gladio, who doesn’t budge.

“Tell him to let go of me,” he grumbles, obviously frustrated. Noct approaches him.

“Promise you wont try whatever it is you just tried and maybe he will.”

The response would be funny if it weren’t such a serious situation.

“Where’s Nyx?” he calls out. The rest of the Glaives shift their weight and whisper. Noct glances around at them and they fall silent once more.

“Let’s go talk,” is how he responds. Libertus pushes back against Gladio again.

“You’re gonna tell me,” he says in between struggling. “Where he is, and why I just found out he’s alive. After all this time. And everyone else is gonna hear it, too.”

Noct glances at Cor. He makes no indication of an opinion. Gladio is busy with Libertus and Prompto’s expression says _ It’s up to you.  _ He looks beside him at Ignis. One eyebrow rises behind his visor and he nods once, Noct nodding back. He straightens and exhales, kingly composure in front of him like a shield.

“Nyx Ulric is alive,” he says, addressing the gathered Glaives. “As those of you who were in Insomnia the day Niflheim attacked know, many of the Glaives died that day and after protecting citizens of the Crown City. Nyx was thought to be among them when the daemons were released. Not anymore.”

The word daemons sets them on edge. Libertus relaxes in Gladio’s grip and he soon lets him go. He stretches his arms and casts a hurt look back at the Captain. He steps towards Noct, and although Cor and the Glaives tense, Noct doesn’t move. He stops about a foot in front of him and looks him in the eye. They’re sad, but hopeful.

“Tell me he’s alright. Just tell me the Ring didn’t hurt him.”

Noct gives him a tight smile and takes both of his shoulders to guide him out.

“Let’s talk.”

As they exit the room he looks back at Cor, Gladio, and Prompto. Gladio’s eye twitches and he speaks up, making sure all of the Glaives hear him.

“Assemble in the briefing room.”

Noct hears footsteps filtering towards the main door as he and Ignis guide Libertus out another. His shoulders are sagging and he looks drained.

They reach an empty conference room and Ignis locks the door behind them. He pulls out a chair for the three of them to sit at the end of the table, he and Ignis on one side and Libertus on the other. Noct folds his hands on the table in front of them. He speaks after a moment of silence.

“I suspect you have some questions.”

“All this time…”

Libertus is looking down at the table. His expression is blank.

“All this time, fighting the daemons and pushing back the night. Rebuilding Galahd, makin’ sure everyone gets the chance to reinvent themselves…”

He looks up, lip quivering slightly. He’s aged, Noct realizes. More than any of them here.

“Why didn’t he come back sooner? Why here and not Galahd?”

He pinches his forehead between two fingers and sniffs, holding back tears.

“I waited for him there.”

Ignis shifts in his seat.

“The circumstances were out of his control. Were he given the choice of where to maifest, I’m sure he would have chosen his homeland.”

Libertus looks up.

“Choice? What choice? Did you keep him locked away in here for twelve years, huh?”

Noct raises a hand and Libertus quiets but it’s obvious he’s in distress. Noct bites his lip once before speaking.

“He died, Libertus. He only just came back to life.”

The Glaive’s face remains confused.

“How?”

“The Ring. It’s power was too much and it killed him the night of the invasion. Something happened, though, and the Crystal brought him back to life.”

“The Ring? The Crystal? How is that possible?”

Libertus leans forward in his seat and gestures with his hands.

“Look, if this is some joke, it’s not a very good one. People have died. Everyone dies, and no one has ever come back from that. You hear me? So how can you say he’s back from the dead like some kind of zombie? Even magic can’t do that.”

“Evidently, it can.”

Their eyes remain locked. Ignis is looking at Noct while he and Libertus look at one another. An understanding, albeit a rudimentary one, passes between them.

“You’re not kiddin’.”

“Nope.”

“Huh.”

He sits back in his seat, flabbergasted.

“After all this time…”

His eyes snap back to Noct’s.

“Where is he?”

“As you can imagine,” Ignis answers. “His being here proves a security concern we here at the Citadel cannot afford to take lightly. Not everyone who has obtained the power of the Lucii have been so fortunate.”

Libertus lifts his head and gestures.

“What about you, huh?”

Ignis raises an eyebrow. Libertus continues, a hint of a crooked smile appearing at the side of his mouth.

“You ever used the Ring? Don’t tell me you’re a zombie, too.”

Ignis doesn’t respond, just stares. He reaches up and removes the visor from his face. The light from the window obviously bothers his eyes but he tries not to squint against it.

“It appears the Gods showed me their favor that day. It was hardly so for Nyx on his day of reckoning.”

Libertus snorts lightly. “Reckoning, huh?”

“I doubt that word’s in your vocabulary.”

The three of them turn to the entrance. Nyx is standing there, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. Libertus stands shakily, knocking his chair over in the process. Ignis and Noct stand, too. Behind him, Gladio and Prompto stand and watch the reunion, faces impassible.

“Y-you!!” Libertus calls out loudly, pointing a finger at Nyx and stepping over his fallen chair. Gladio and Prompto enter and shut the door behind them, joining Noct and Ignis. Ignis has replaced his visor over his eyes but his expression is stern.

“Why on earth would you bring him here?” he asks. Gladio has his arms crossed but he lifts a hand to gesture heavily at Prompto.

“Talk to this guy. It was his idea.”

“We took the back ways,” Prompto says as if that explains everything. They all look at Libertus and Nyx, who talk inaudibly back and forth. Nyx’s back is to them so they can’t see his face. Libertus’ however, screws up into one of intense grief and he strikes out, punching Nyx square in the face. He falls and Prompto launches forward to pull him up, the latter reaching up and touching his face, fingers coming away with blood on them.

“That’s your idea of the welcome wagon?”

Libertus stands above him, fists clenched to his side. He shakes his head in anger.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that? Twelve years you made me wait-- twelve! I worked day and night, lookin’ out for you to return, writin’ letters and never sendin’ ‘em ‘cause I was sure you’d be back any day! Now look at you, not a word and suddenly you’re back and better than before.”

“It’s not like they have email in the afterlife,” Nyx responds, waving Prompto off as he sits up. His nose is bleeding, the area where Libertus’ fist made contact spawning a bright red bruise. Ignis approaches and offers him a handkerchief but Libertus raises his voice.

“Leave him!” he demands. Ignis ignores him and pushes it to Nyx’s nose, leaning his head back. Nyx fights him initially but lets it happen after Ignis shows no signs of letting up. Gladio and Noct exchange glances.

“Why didn’t you call?” he asks, and it’s the overwhelming hurt Noct had seen on his face before. The sense of betrayal evident on his face.

“I couldn’t,” Nyx defends, righting the fallen chair and having a seat in it. He looks at Libertus while keeping his head tilted back. One of his eyes has a small, growing spot of red in the white of it, more than likely from the force of Libertus’ punch. There’s red spots on the Glaive’s knuckles but Noct’s unsure whether it’s his or Nyx’s blood.

“Look,” Noct says, approaching Ignis and Prompto, Gladio following behind. All eyes turn to him.

“We sent a letter as quick as we could to Galahd. We just don’t know what happened besides what we told you. No one was keeping a secret or hiding.”

“Except all of you,” Libertus accuses. “Those Glaives had no idea Nyx was alive or even here! No wonder you couldn’t call, you all kept him like a prisoner in a tower.”

“It is a major security risk,” Ignis reaffirms. “Gladio has made clear none of today’s events leave the Citadel. We will tell the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard in time, but for now we must know more information than we have, else there may be consequences we are unprepared for.”

“Like what?” Libertus sneers. “Can’t the Crystal bring everyone back? Or maybe it was playin’ roulette and decided Nyx to be the lucky winner of the Life Lottery. What a joke.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Nyx adds. He pulls the handkerchief from his face and sniffs once, examining the bright blood spot before standing and approaching the seething Glaive.

“You sure know how to throw a punch. I’m surprised, seeing as though you’re all old now.”

“And you’re so much better,” Libertus retorts. “Mighty hero can come back from the dead but can’t be bothered to explain how or why.”

“I get why you’re upset, but I don’t know how or why either. You think I’d be here if I did? I’d much rather be out there, helping you restore Galahd. But I want to know why I’m back more than anyone. I mean, c’mon, did anyone consider this might be really hard for me, too?”

He looks at everyone, arms outstretched as if to say _ Am I right or am I right?  _ He turns back to Libertus.

“Besides…”

He gives his arm a light, friendly punch.

“Had I’d known this is how I’d be welcomed back…”

Libertus’ smile is wobbly. He shakes his head in disbelief and launches himself at Nyx, pulling him into a crushing hug. Nyx pats his back amiably and reassures him that  _ It’s alright, I’m here now. _

Libertus pulls away from the embrace and wipes a tear from his eye.

“Took you long enough. You sure know how to keep a guy waitin’.”

Nyx returns the smile.

“Well, what can I say? I’m worth the wait.”

 

They walk Libertus to the front entrance of the Citadel. It’s past noon by this point and the majority of the Glaives from the morning have gone home. They’d all been told that they’ll know more information as soon as the King knows, but for now to keep it all under wraps. Nyx returned to his room with little resistance after asking about Luna. When he was told she was out with the people he only smiled. They’d need to be more careful about disclosing Nyx’s whereabouts while talking in the Citadel. Libertus brushed off their warnings, stating he’d never tell anyone the way Nyx came back to Insomnia.

“No one would believe me, anyhow,” he adds, mood comparably lighter since he arrived.

They stop at the top of the steps and Noct puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re more than welcome to stay here, you know.”

“Here? No way,” Libertus says, twirling his keys on one finger.

“I came all the way from Galahd, meanin’ I got a ton of crap I gotta put somewhere. And no way I’m holin’ up in this place. Nu uh. It’s got weird mojo.”

“Where will you be staying?” Ignis asks him.

“Might get in contact with some old friends. Not everyone from Galahd went back so I’ll make ‘em pay me back by givin’ me a place to sleep. After all, it’s their home I’m rebuildin’, too.”

He starts down the stairs, then turns back to them. The four boys stand in a line watching him leave. He gestures with a finger to Ignis, pointing at his visor.

“You take care of yourself. You got off easy with those eyes; Nyx weren’t so lucky then, but I think he’s taken all’ve your luck now.”

Ignis simply nods back and Libertus returns walking forward. It’s an elephant in the room how unlucky Ignis actually was, and how forgiving the power of the Crystal could be under Noct’s control. There was another day to tell him that, though.

They all break their line, unsurely looking at each other.

“Well,” Prompto starts. “What now?”

“Breakfast?” Noct suggests. “I’m starving.”

Gladio reaches out and pinches his cheek.

“Someone got rid of that rat’s nest on his face.”

He swats his hand away but he’s smiling. Prompto joins in.

“Oh yeah, I meant to say something. You have a nice face under all that crusty hair.”

“Can it,” he says, but he’s flattered. “Specs shaved today so it inspired me to do the same.”

“You couldn’t have done it sooner?” Ignis asks as they turn and head for the front doors. “I happen to shave every day after I bathe.”

“Ooooh,” Prompto teases. “Someone has a preference for baby-faced Noct.”

“You’re one to talk, Prompto.”

“That baby face doesn’t win you any favors. Least Noct can go to a bar without being asked for an ID.”

“Ha ha. At least I’ll still look young when I’m old.”

“May we all grow old together to see that fateful day.”


	14. A Future We Never Knew

The answer almost comes to him in a dream that night.

The answer to everything: Nyx’s reappearance, why Luna was unable to receive his vision. But instead, Noct receives news he never wanted to receive, and the fact that he may have not had a choice if things had gone only slightly more tragic than they did.

He sees the end that Prompto saw in his dreams; the Crystal told him it was so. But he also sees what it failed to show Prompto: the end to the end. Not only does he die at the hand of his father and his fathers, but so do the Nox Fleurets at the hands of Ardyn. Earlier in this vision he saw himself push Ardyn from atop a train only to realize it was Prompto. He also sees a turn of events that Prompto had never ever mentioned seeing, and for good reason. Getting captured by the Empire, fighting his way out and finding Aranea, discovering the truth of his origins before being recaptured and held hostage at Zegnautus Keep, the fortress in the center of Gralea. He waits for an indeterminate amount of time to be rescued and Noct swears he can feel every burn, every twist of his wrists in his own when he struggles against his metal bonds. He can hear the anguish in his soul and the doubts that he’ll ever escape this personal, claustrophobic hell. He sees himself nearly get killed hundreds of ways while traversing the fortress alone, separated from his remaining retinue after the Regalia is destroyed by enemy fire. He’s nearly crushed to death before Ignis and Gladio save him and reunite with Prompto.

Interestingly enough, in this version of reality, the corpses hanging in the throne room don’t include the Glaive from Lestallum or his Mother. Nyx and his Father are still there but the other two are replaced by Emperor Aldercapt and Lunafreya. The former he couldn’t care less about, as the man never won any favors in his book. He was probably put there as a way for the Chancellor to flex his imaginary influence over the world without Noct and the Crystal. But Luna? His heart feels sick at the very thought. He’d tried to kill her even in the future which came to pass, but the fact that he could have succeeded? That Ignis and Ravus might have been too late to get her away from the Chancellor and the waves of Leviathan before she was swept away? It adds a whole new dimension of grief to the situation.

He wakes up in Ignis’ arms while the room is still dark. They’re in his bed this time and it doesn’t look like he’s slept through an entire day again like the last time. Noct also hopes, he feels as he pushes himself further back into Ignis and holds his hands in his, that unlike last time, he doesn’t cause the persons of his dreams to return to life.

In the warmth of his beloved and the cool of the very early morning, Noct realizes that he’s afraid to die.

 

Libertus keeps in touch with Gladio and relays some important news concerning Nyx: for centuries the folks in their hometown often spoke of an urban legend, a man of poor beginnings rising up to defend his country and the whole world from devastation. He’d travelled, trained, and fought to fulfill what he thought his destiny was until he was killed. The people of his country mourned so that many years later his soul returned to earth to find peace among the living, as there was none to be found in his afterlife.

“Can’t believe I didn’t realize it before,” Libertus told him over a call. “Me and Nyx were listenin’ to these tales ‘nd never thought it’d be one of us. I know it’s just talk from bored people but it fits him too well to be ignored.”

Noct went to speak to Nyx about this and he’d laughed.

“Leave it up to Libertus to harken back to that.”

“Isn’t it just a little too coincidental to be all wrong, though?”

Nyx had looked down, then out the window.

“Maybe. My afterlife wasn’t bad, though. I just missed a lot of people is all.”

Noct doesn’t hesitate in replying.

“A lot of people as in Lunafreya?”

A snort.

“You and her, huh? Never giving me a break.”

His face had mostly healed from when Libertus had punched him but the redness of his eye had only gotten worse. By now it had consumed nearly all of the sclera and gave his face an uneven look. Noct reached out to touch it and he didn’t flinch.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he’d stated. “Except when I try to sleep.”

Boy, did Noct know that feeling.

In another week Luna had asked to extend her stay in the Lucian capital.

“There’s so many in need,” she’d told Noct. “I wish to help as many as possible before travelling back to Tenebrae.”

He’d agreed, of course, but provided one stipulation.

“What would you ask of me?” she’d asked lightly, her arm wrapped around his as they walked through the gardens.

“You gotta heal Nyx.”

Her eyebrows creased with confusion.

“Is her injured?”

Noct nodded.

“Remember how I said Libertus punched him?”

She looked up to meet his eyes. He gestures to one of his own.

“It’s not pretty.”

They’re silent for a moment, steps slow and purposeful.

“It’s not only his eye, is it?”

Noct doesn’t respond.

“I have no qualms about seeing the man,” she begins, following it with a sigh.

“I cannot say for certain whether you’ll be able to remove me from the room without him attached, however.”

So they’d brought her to his room despite Ravus’ insistence they don’t. Several minutes later she’d emerged, hand pressed to her mouth and tears moistening her face.

“Luna…?” Noct had begun, but she politely choked out a pardon and walked herself back to her room.

Noct finds himself, again postponing one of Ignis’ breakfasts, to settle a disturbance.

The line rings once, twice, thrice…

Prompto picks up on the fourth ring and he sounds tired.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, you busy?”

“Uh, I’m at Hammerhead. Yeah, why?”

“I got a favor to ask. Think of it as more of a royal duty, not exactly outside of your paygrade, Ambassador.”

He hears the sound of motors dissipate and what might be a door closing on the other end, then Prompto’s voice come through with more clarity.

“What do you need?”

“Something happened between Luna and Nyx, and I think she trusts you the most. She’s been dodging the question but I know it’s bothering her. Can I ask you to help me out?”

“She won’t talk to you?”

“We talk, but not about the elephant in the room. Nyx says she got emotional while healing his eye and stopped halfway. The stopping halfway bit is true but he’s leaving out the details. He’s not exactly the type I can force an explanation out of so I’m leaving it up to you. You with me?”

Prompto inhales, then exhales like he’s made up his mind.

“Cid is not gonna be happy about this. I already ditched on them once.”

“Tell him the King sent for you.”

“He doesn’t care about that.”

“Then tell him you’re tired of taking orders from him and you quit.”

Prompto snorts.

“That’ll get me a wrench to the head.”

Noct laughs and Prompto does too, the ice broken.

“So you’ll do it?”

“Do I get paid for my ambassadorial duties?”

“Dude, you already get paid for them.”

“Fine. Can I learn a new dance, though?”

Noct feigns a thinking noise.

“Hmm, what do you want to learn?”

Prompto parrots him.

“Hmm, how about the salsa? Iggy teach you that?”

“What makes you think Iggy and I know how to salsa dance?”

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to teach me that one. It’s too sexy, I get it. A little weird for bros.”

If he were here Noct would have punched him in the arm. He settles for making the friendly threat instead.

“I’ll drive out after I finish this piece and meet with you tonight. Sound good?”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

“Laters.”

Noct hangs up and leans back in his desk chair. Ignis knocks twice then enters his room with a can of coffee in hand. He notes the uneaten breakfast on his desk when he leans against it, taking a sip of his drink.

“Something on your mind?”

“Just called Prompto. He says he’ll talk to Luna when he gets back from Hammerhead.”

Ignis nods and takes another sip.

“Cid will not be pleased to hear he’s leaving again.”

“I know. Prompto said he basically had to grovel after he forgot to call them back last time he was supposed to be out there.”

Ignis offers the can to Noct and he takes it, drinking a small sip from the cold aluminum. It’s black and unsweetened.

“That stuff still isn’t good, you know,” he comments and passes it back. Ignis smiles and takes a long swig of it for effect.

“I beg to differ.”

He shakes his head. Ignis reaches out and runs a finger along the side of his face.

“You’re letting it grow out again.”

“Not on purpose. I just keep forgetting to shave it every day. I don’t know how you do it.”

“It’s quite simple to make it part of your routine. You’ll get it down, I have no doubt.”

He sets the can down on a coaster and reaches forward with both hands, turning Noct’s head back and forth to examine his stubbly facial hair.

“Until such a time as you get it down, would you like me to help? A second pair of hands could do no harm.”

Noct knows he means it innocently but feels his mind enter the gutter.

“Sure, you can help. Been a long time since you’ve shown me how to shave.”

Ignis smiles in return.

“I trust you’ve gotten much better at it since you were thirteen.”

“If I haven’t then everyone is laughing at me behind my back.”

They both stand and make their way to Noctis’ bathroom when he pulls out all of his tools and ties his hair back. Shaving cream, a fresh razor, and a towel. He lathers up his face and turns to Ignis, passing him the razor.

“Care to do the honors?”

He takes it in one hand.

“Certainly.”

With his free hand he tilts Noct’s face upwards, pushing the blade lightly against his skin and pulling upwards with the grain. Noct refrains from speaking until he’s cleared a stripe and rinses it off in the sink.

“I always thought you were supposed to shave against the grain.”

Ignis lifts his head further up, starting again beside his Adam’s apple.

“That can cause irritation. It’s best to shave with it to prevent afflictions such as bumps and ingrown hairs.”

He swallows once the razor is past his neck.

Shaving his face is such a simple gesture, a sign of his need and want to be always helpful. It makes Noct feel loved, if slightly awkward, but Ignis doesn’t seem to mind. He finishes up by shaving his face, turning his head back and forth to look for missed spots. He pats Noct’s arm and holds him out in a job well done.

“You’re looking fresh again. Time to rinse.”

He leans over the sink and splashes water over his face, hand running across his smooth jaw. He presses a towel to his cheeks and faces Ignis, a smile blooming across his face. Ignis smiles back.

“Have you any after shave?” Ignis asks. Noct shrugs and Ignis glances around the counter.

“After shave helps to soothe the skin by moisturizing it.”

“Go get yours,” Noct says and runs his finger down Ignis’ neck. His green eyes move from searching the countertop to Noctis’, gaze examining his beardless face before shooting back up. Noct takes this as a good sign and wraps his arms around his General’s shoulders, pulling him close until his backside bumps the counter. He leans in to his mouth and whispers.

“I want to smell like you.”

Ignis has his hands braced on either side of the counter. He swallows once, eyes searching Noct’s. He lifts one hand and brushes the back of it over his cheek, knuckles grazing his ear and carding into his hair. He pulls at the ponytail and watches his short, dark hair fall down. Noct blows on the section that falls in front of his face and smiles when Ignis does, too, other hand tucking it behind his ear.

Their bodies are close and their mouths are closer, Noct pulling at his bottom lip with a thumb.

“I want your scent all over me,” he edges on. He lets his hands fall to the bottom of his torso and begins pulling upwards on his shirt. Ignis gives a little resistance at first but lifts his arms above his head, their chests pressing together momentarily when he leans forward to pull it off the rest of the way. Noct sets it on the counter and runs his fingers down Ignis’ bare chest, watching his even breathing beneath his warm skin. His muscles tense and flex and Noct feels pride when he thinks about how he’s causing that. He’s the one turning Ignis on right now, fingers and palms stretching over the valleys and mountains of his body.

He looks up and sees Ignis watching his every move, pupils darker against those emerald irises of his. He pushes a hand through his sandy hair and pulls him into him suddenly, Ignis breathing in sharply and bracing his hands against the counter again. Noct leans into his ear.

“Put your hands on me.”

His own voice sounds strong and confident. Ignis’ is deep and rumbly against his ear when he responds.

“Where?”

He leans back slightly and presses his lips to his, eyes closing when he sees Ignis do the same. The hands move from the granite counter and pull his head closer, large and strong in his hair. The fingers massage his scalp, a breath of air escaping when their mouths pull slightly apart. He feels a tug on his hair and bares his neck to Ignis, who kisses hungerly at the skin there. His chest is hot but his mouth is hotter, leaving glistening patches of saliva where he strokes with the flat of his tongue.

“I’m so sorry,” Ignis breathes, teeth bared and nibbling at the underside of his jaw.

“You must feel so neglected.”

Noct laughs deep in his chest and puts his own hands behind him on the counter. He can feel a hint of hardness against his thigh and bites his lip.

“Gotta say, I was starting to feel like you didn’t like me like that.”

“My apologies.”

“Don’t apologize.”

His voice isn’t commanding but it’s firm. He lightly tugs Ignis away from his neck and kisses him again, breaking apart only to speak.

“Just do something about it.”

What he feels isn’t reluctance, but hesitation. Ignis pauses before kissing him again with intent, seemingly making his mind up.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

His hands travel down his chest to untuck his shirt from his trousers, unbuttoning it from the bottom up. Noctis is the one wearing an undershirt this time but Ignis pulls that off, too, tossing it on the counter behind them. He’s breathing more heavily now and his hands are needy, roaming up and down Noct’s bared chest before slipping down to his belt.

“Good thing I didn’t have more on,” Noct breathes. Ignis’ eyes don’t leave his as he undoes the latch and pulls the leather band from his beltloops, setting it alongside their shirts in a pile.

“I’d have taken it off as well.”

He drops to his knees and pops open the button of his pants, eyes finding Noct’s for confirmation every step of the way. The dark material falls from his hips and he steps out of them. Ignis’ hands immediately move to his backside and begin kneading him through the fabric of his briefs, lips pressing to his abdomen and thighs. Noct lets his head tilt back and eyes close, cheeks warming as his mind presses him to continue. The fingers on his ass move upwards and dip under the waistband of his underwear, tugging them lightly down his hips. He moves to help him but Ignis firmly pushes his hands away.

“Be a good boy, Noct,” Ignis growls and the sound shoots straight to his cock. He’s half-hard when his briefs come off and Ignis eyes him up and down, hands smoothing along his thighs.

“Let me take care of you.”

 

It’s several hours later when Prompto arrives at the Citadel and rendezvous with the King and the Captain. Noct is in full gear and so is Gladio, uniforms spick and span. Must have been a busy day.

“Where’s Iggy?” he asks as they begin walking.

“He’s getting ready,” Noct replies and scratches the back of his head. “He made me breakfast and got behind. He’ll be out soon, though.”

“Neat,” he says. “He make himself something?”

“Yeah, he had something to eat.”

They stop in front of the elevator and wait for it to come down. Two Glaives locked on conversation and Gladio eyes them as they walk by, gaze turning back when they round a corner. Prompto smirks.

“Something catch your eye?”

“Maybe.”

He snorts in good humor and looks away. Gladio isn’t going anywhere, he knows.

They make it to the right floor and all exit, spotting Ravus in front of her door reading a book. He looks distrustful, eyes insisting he was right to now let Nyx anywhere near her.

“I trust Your Majesty has come to make things right,” he says as they approach. He bows and Noct lifts his hand in response.

“I’m just here to watch. Prompto is going to talk with her about what happened.”

They meet eyes and Prompto doesn’t flinch. The fact that his irises are two different colors throws him off. He tries really hard to not look at his metal arm.

“Take care,” he says and gestures towards the door.

“We’re still waitin’ on Ignis,” Gladio remarks and leans against the wall. They wait for a couple of minutes in silence before Noct’s phone chimes. He fishes it out and reads a message. He then types a quick response and slides it back into his pocket.

“Iggy says he’s got something to take care of, so we can go ahead and fill him in later.”

“Anything bad?” Gladio asks. Noct shakes his head.

“Libertus called and they’re doing research. Guess he might have had a break-through.”

He nods in response and looks down at Prompto.

“You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. What if she doesn’t wanna talk?”

“Then that’s her decision,” Noct shrugs. Ravus nods in agreement.

“I will be present for this, of course,” he states and opens the door, leading their way down the hall. “The health of the Queen is of utmost importance.”

He knocks on the door at the end of the hallway. It’s evening so Luna should still be awake. Prompto shifts on his feet and wonders if she’s even wanting to talk when they hear a “come in.”

He pushes open the door and Noct steps in, followed by Gladio, Prompto, then Ravus. She’s sitting on her couch with Gentiana across from her in a chair. She turns her head towards them and although her eyes are closed, it feels like she’s looking straight at Noct.

“Gentiana…” Noct says. She nods and stands gracefully, moving to a corner of the room. Luna looks like she’s been crying. Upon noticing this, Prompto darts to her side and kneels in front of her, taking her hand in his. She tightens her lips and squeezes his. When she does, he can feel something hard in her palm. Curious, he lifts his hands and meets her eyes. She closes them and turns her palm upwards, opening it to reveal a gold ring.

“He’s asked me to marry him,” she says quietly, a smile breaking through her tears. Prompto feels a tug at his heart and looks back at Noct, who stands stunned. Gladio looks similarly taken aback. Ravus steps forward towards her.

“Sister, you do not truly mean to consider his proposal.”

It’s more of a statement than a question. She sniffs once and toys with the band before enclosing it in her palm once more, hand sitting atop Prompto’s head. Her composure breaks and a sob escapes her throat.

“I told him no.”

She folds forward and Prompto catches her in his arms, hands rubbing her back in comforting circles. Ravus loses some of his tension and exhales audibly, eyes glancing toward Noct.

“A Queen cannot marry a man of such low standing. It would be improper of her to even give it the time of day.”

“Cast aside your antiquated ideals,” Luna cries and stands, approaching Ravus and standing before him.

“Who I marry is my choice and mine alone. I chose to say no because I have no understanding as to the Gods’ actions regarding his rebirth.”

She sniffs and looks downwards, eyebrows heavy with thought.

“Were I to lose him again, now as my husband and not as my companion…”

Her eyes meet his again in a stunning display of will.

“I could not bear to live with myself.”

She turns on her heel and approaches Gentiana, holding out the ring and placing it in her palms.

“Gentiana has agreed to keep hold of it for me until such a time as I might return it,” she states, wiping her face and crossing back to the couch. She doesn’t sit but rather elects to remain standing, hands finding one another in front of her.

“Or until his presence on earth is proven as true.”

“Wait,” Prompto says and stands, having stayed knelt on the ground out of shock.

“You’re saying he’s not real?”

“He is as real as any of us, and yet I cannot find it in myself to love a man who is unknown to me. My trepidation lies within the validity of his existence. I must know if he will not be taken from us again before I commit to a decision.”

Ravus grunts and runs a hand along his goatee.

“This is outrageous. What of your suitors, of your kingdom? The politics of wedding a man-- a Glaive, no less-- of unequal standing would be a blemish on the Nox Fleuret house!”

“That is no decision of yours to make,” Lunafreya responds and levels him with a firm gaze. “Were you troubled by our house’s reputation you would not have served the Empire as you did those years ago.”

Ravus’ mouth clicks shut and across the room Prompto can hear his teeth grinding. He steps forward and points a finger.

“What I did was for us, sister. You would do well to remember that.”

He turns and opens the door to see himself out. It closes loudly behind him but no one flinches, Prompto slowly approaching her and offering his hands. She slides into his arms and lays her head on his shoulder, blue eyes blinking with new tears.

“I love him,” she says quietly enough for only Prompto to hear. He knows Noct and Gladio can hear it, too, and secures his arm around her lower back in a comforting hug.

“I know, Luna.”

“Have I done the right thing?” she asks him and he breathes in before responding, the scent of sylleblossoms filling his nostrils.

“Yeah, you did. You did.”


	15. Priorities

“I think it’s high time we leave.”

“Do what now?”

“We should leave the Crown City. Embark on a journey across Lucis once more, starting with Leide and ending in Altissia. It would be the perfect renaissance of our youth.”

“I dunno about you, Iggy, but I’m okay with how I am now. I was just a liiittle too awkward back then.”

Gladio snorts and leans back in his seat.

“Like you’re not still awkward.”

“At least I know how to talk to people now.”

Noct chews his lip in contemplation.

“So what you’re saying is we should take a roadtrip and camp out across the country again? Go hunting, fishing, ride chocobos…?”

Prompto shoots up in his seat.

“Chocobos?”

“Camping?”

Iggy chuckles and adjusts his visor.

“Now that I’ve got your attention, I must confess the true meaning of this proposition. We’ve no more information to gather from reconnaissance in Galahd, and without knowing the changes to the prophecy, the Glaives and Hunters looking into the Royal Tombs cannot hope to make sense of our mystery man.”

“Nyx,” Gladio says and crosses his arms.

“The existence of a force which can bring back the dead is troubling, indeed. Our mission, then, and the reason for this proposed adventure, would be to discover the origins of this power and possibly learn if it may happen again.”

“Then what?” Noct asks, and Ignis continues.

“That’s the unknown in this equation. To solve it, we must have all other variables present.”

Noct speaks.

“So, discover the source…”

Prompto counts the objectives on his fingers.

“Find out if it can do it again…”

Gladio sets his hands together on the table in front of him.

“And if it can, stop it before it goes too far.”

Ignis nods.

“Precisely.”

“Well,” Prompto starts. “I’m sold. If it means we get to take the Regalia again and do all sorts of fun stuff… We are taking the Regalia, right?”

“Wouldn’t be a road trip without it,” Noct states definitively. Gladio looks to Ignis.

“Last time I saw her, she was lookin’ pretty rough. You drove her around when Noct was in the Crystal, right? Spend a decade doing that and she’s bound to have gotten some wear and tear.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve left her in the Citadel’s parking area for quite some time now. Cindy lacked the proper parts and available time to offer assistance so she’s fallen out of use for the past three years or so.”

“She can do it now, though,” Prompto adds. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind getting paid a royal sum to fix her up nice and new.”

“Couldn’t you do it?” Gladio asks and he and Prompto meet eyes. “With how much time you spend out there, if we got you the right parts could you fix it?”

“Well, maybe, yeah,” he answers and picks at his wristband. Noct sees this but doesn’t say anything. “But the Regalia is still ahead of her time when it comes to cars. I mostly work on clunkers and stuff left over from when King Regis was young.”

He sighs and shakes his head.

“No wonder Cindy always liked it when we came by. The Crown City tech is so much more advanced than the stuff outside of it.”

“Then call her up.”

He makes an unsure noise.

“Uhh, I think one of you should do it. Remember when I had to leave early last time?”

“Yeaaah?” Noct asks apprehensively.

“Cid kinda kicked my ass and told me not to come back, leastways ‘til I get some sense of responsibility.”

“That old man is still kickin’?”

“Yeah, dude. He lived in Lestallum doing weapons upgrades during the Dark Years. After we brought back the Light he went back to Hammerhead and does all kinds of stuff now. His biggest client, he says, was this really tall Glaive who used a katana kinda like Cor’s.”

He nudges Gladio and smiles.

“Remember her?”

“I remember when she kicked all our asses.”

“Separately, then all at once,” Ignis remarks.

“Wish I was there to see it,” Noct teases. “Gotta admit, she was pretty badass at taking down those daemons in Insomnia. Then again, you guys can’t forget when I took you all down, can you? First separately, then all at once?”

There’s pride in his voice despite the fact that he’s joking. Prompto leans over and punches his arm.

“Maybe we should invite her along? Being from Galahd and all she’d be a big help on helping us get to know the culture around there,” Prompto comments. Gladio waves him off.

“No, this has gotta be just us. Otherwise, things’ll get confusing. Right, Iggy?”

“That was my next suggestion.”

All eyes turn to him.

“We’re taking this journey to discover the origins of a man who was once dead. It stands to reason we should have him along.”

“Seriously?” Noct asks. It’s a genuine question, but Gladio’s excitement has worn off.

“Can’t we just keep him locked up here at the Citadel? He causes less trouble that way.”

“Boy, you really don’t like him, do you?”

“The guy pisses me off,” Gladio states, then sighs.

“But he’s a damn good fighter if he was able to wear the Ring and takes down Glauca.”

“That’s right! He did put on the Ring!”

Prompto looks at Noctis.

“He stopped Luna from putting it on because he knew it would hurt her and ended up getting power from it. It’s how he died in the first place!”

Noct looks at his hand and flexes his fingers. The Ring’s center gem gleams in the light from the window. He looks back up at the three of them.

“If we take Nyx, then we have to take Luna. She’s part of this, too.”

“What of her country?” Ignis asks. “She’s been absent from Tenebrae for longer than anticipated. Would her council agree to allow her unguarded travel?”

“She wouldn’t be unguarded,” Gladio maintains. “She’d have five of the kingdom’s best warriors with her at all times.”

“I think he’s thinking about Ravus,” Prompto adds. “I can handle Nyx and Luna, but Ravus? That’d make seven of us. No way we can fit all those bodies into one Regalia.”

“That’s why we take both.”

All eyes one Noctis again.

“There’s another Regalia?”

“You never saw it sitting around Hammerhead?”

“No!” Prompto says.

“It’s in the back of the shop under a tarp. Dad had it made in case we crashed the first one.”

“No, it’s not,” Prompto maintains. “I’ve seen the garage front to back; there’s no Regalia.”

Noct whips out his phone and begins typing.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Cindy.”

Prompto protests but he stops him.

“We have to get the first Regalia in working order, right? So I have to call her anyways.”

He slumps down and Ignis gives him a sympathetic smile. Noct puts the phone to his ear and in the quiet of the room they all can hear the dial tone. The receiver clicks to life after the fourth ring.

“Well I’ll be,” she answers. Noct can’t help the smile that crosses his face.

“If it ain’t the King himself, callin’ me from his fancy castle. What can I do you for?”

“Hey, Cindy,” he replies. “How are you?”

“I’m well and good. A little bit better knowin’ y’ain’t forgot about us.”

“How could I?”

“You flirter, you.”

He laughs and Prompto’s head falls to the table with a  _ thunk _ . Noct eyes him and stifles a laugh.

“Your lines are secure, right Cindy?”

“Sure are. Your security got us all set up with some fancy gizmo for the phones out here. I ain’t in no trouble, am I?”

“No, you’re not. I have a favor to ask.”

“That don’t sound different from before.”

“You’d be paid handsomely for it.”

She makes a put-on sigh. Noct slowly moves the phone from his ear and puts it on speaker for all of them to hear. The three of them lean in close.

“I’ll do what you need, Your Majesty. Ain’t no doubt about that. But my workload is just too big at this point. Unless you tell me we’re makin’ a car that can fly or whatnot I can’t promise it’ll get done within the month.”

“What if I told you we were fixing the Regalia?”

There’s silence on the line.

“Cindy?”

“That old girl still runnin’?”

There’s a hint of sadness in her voice and they all exchange glances. Noct leans into the phone again.

“Not exactly. We’ve kept her in the parking garage here at the Citadel ever since we started rebuilding the City. She’s probably got a few layers of dust and a lot of rusted parts. Would you be up to the challenge?”

The silence this time is contemplative.

“When’s the last time you fired her up?”

Noct looks to Ignis. He blinks several times before reaching for the phone and scooting it towards him.

“It’s been a few years, I’m afraid. The last time I started the engine was to put it in park. Counting from then until now it’s been approximately one and a half years, not counting when I had her stored at your shop for the time before Noct returned.”

There’s an audible noise they can’t make out and it worries Noct. He scoots the phone back his way and continues.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, and we don’t mind waiting. But we’ve got some important things to take care of and the only car we trust is collecting dust in the basement. And the only mechanic we trust to take care of it is you.”

“I ain’t sayin’ no,” she says, and the happy lilt from her voice is gone. “But the last time I saw that car there was a war goin’ on. You boys ain’t startin’ no more wars, are you?”

Noct’s eyebrows crease together.

“No, no way. Why would we do that?”

“It’s not y’all, sugar. It just… the whole thing reminds me too much of when you was gone. You know? When the sun went away, things went real south for the folks out here. When I’d hear that engine purrin’ and makin’ her way to me here at the garage I just thought, ‘boy, that sure used to be the sound of hope’. Then I’d seen Ignis’ eyes and…”

Ignis’ expression doesn’t betray what he’s thinking. He takes the phone again.

“Miss Cindy, I assure you, there’s not a threat to the kingdom which would place any of us in direct danger.”

Cindy sniffles into the receiver then clears her throat.

“I ain’t gonna ask what it is you boys is doin’, but you gotta promise me you’ll be safe. I’m reckonin’ you’re lookin’ for answers somewhere out there in the wild blue yonder, but remember, y’ain’t that young no more. None of us are. Heck, your daddy died not to far from your age-- even closer to mine. I used to dream as a little girl that King Regis’d come by and talk with my Pawpaw. He always looked so sad when your daddy was talkin’ on the radio. Come to find out they never saw one another again, and Pawpaw cursed this country along with the Niffs for takin’ him away. Y’all didn’t know that, did you?”

This sudden news shocks all of them. Cindy sniffles again before speaking.

“Let me know when you want me to come get her. I’ll drive the big truck and get her out of the city, but dependin’ on the damage it may take me a little while. Also how discreet y’all’re wantin’ to be. You gonna tell folks where you’re goin’?”

Noct opens his mouth several times to speak but can’t seem to find the words. When he gets them out they’re sincere.

“We’re doing our best to not make people worry. We’ll tell everyone when the time is right.”

She makes a noise of confirmation.

“And Cindy?”

“Yeah, sugar?”

“Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome.”

 

The four of them spend the next few days planning out their trip in between regular work duties. Prompto spends several nights at Gladio’s charting out their route on a map, then making preparations for detours and unexpected stops. They also watch plenty of movies in between, Gladio lamenting how he’ll miss this brand new set-up. Prompto reminds him that they’ll be spending time in the wilderness, though, and nature is far better entertainment than old DVDs.

“There’s somethin’ a little more entertainin’ in front of me, though.”

Prompto wasn’t a virgin. Neither was Gladio. But there was still something so new and exciting about the prospect of being with one another for the first time. Maybe it was the fact that they were just good friends before they started dating and good friends don’t sleep together. Who knew? But as Prompto knelt on Gladio’s bed, face pressed into the mattress and sweaty hands clinging to the sheets, he wondered if he’d found his home in the heart of another person, or possibly people. Perhaps their trip wouldn’t be about a renaissance, as Ignis had so eloquently said. It would be about connecting old things in new ways, repiecing a history all of them never knew they had shared. If four could be a family, what does that make seven?

 

It took a lot of persuading on Noctis’ part to convince his Council that this was the right thing to do. With help from a certain General, as well as his Kingsglaive Captain and Ambassador, he elected a temporary government to keep things running and prevent unrest among the populous. One of the stipulations for allowing the King to absent for so long-- upwards of a year if it came down to it, was that he must inform the public of his leaving and offer his support to the officials standing in their places for the time being. He left assessing the validity of their worth to Ignis, of course, and helped formulate a plan for the capital. They would have to send reports to the General every week of all goings-on, as well as to Gladio and Prompto if the business concerned their station. It wasn’t going to be an easy trip: tied down to the bureaucracy even when thousands of miles away and leaving important decisions to a proxy could lead to trouble. But Noct trusted Ignis to choose the right people and at least keep the new government from collapsing into a giant mess. If he knew Ignis, he knew there would always be fail-safes hidden in every corner.

It took less convincing on Luna’s part to allow herself this freedom to travel. The government of Tenebrae had far less to worry about in terms of logistics and concerned citizenry than Insomnia, and Noctis and co. were far more worried about Ravus than any councilmember. Turns out Luna could do what they struggled to in far less time.

“If I know my brother,” she told Prompto during tea one afternoon. “I musn’t suggest he do something but rather state my involvement and force his hand that way. If he feels the decision is his to make then he will behave far more agreeably. He will join us and has insisted Nyx do as well. For his sake we must house them separately.”

Nyx wasn’t told about the travel plans until the other six of them had things squared away. He’d been moved to another, more well-equipped room that allowed him to train and make his own meals. Rumors spread throughout the Citadel about a ghost living somewhere in the halls, but those who knew the real truth had been sworn to secrecy and refused to add or detract from the nonsense.

“Will Luna be coming?” he had asked Noct. Noct had nodded and he’d said nothing in return, just resumed practicing on a punching bag. Noct saw a single gold ring sitting on his dresser by the door.

Cindy called regularly to update Noct on the progress of the Regalia and her twin. Prompto was correct when he said there was no car in the back of the garage: Cindy and Cid had it moved to long-term storage in Lestallum plenty of years back.

“Mighty strange that this one runs better than the original, on account that she hadn’t been started in about a decade,” she’d said to him. “Then again she wasn’t takin’ in all that soot ‘n garbage we was havin’ out here like her sister. I’m sure Ignis knew what he was doin’ to keep her fresh but with that much junk in the air there’s only so much an automobile can take.”

With maps routed, positions secured, and cars on the brink of full functionality, the last major milestone to pass concerns the public address. Noct makes it clear what he wants: short and to the point. He would start by making known his pride in the development of the nation, then move to stating that there’s still so much to be done. His hopes are to see the Kingdom of Lucis restored and better than before and to do that he must follow his divine calling once more and complete an odyssey throughout the countryside. He would end by announcing his faith in the provisional government and offering support for the concerned.

Things hardly ever worked exactly to plan, however.

Noct makes it to the podium on time and at his cue, waiting to be introduced. Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio are there with him to one side, and to the other stands Lunafreya and Ravus. Cor finishes his short speech and hands the stage over to Noct. He’s met with thunderous applause and can hardly keep a smile off of his face, leading to more cheering and clapping as a result. When the crowd calms down, he begins his speech.

“My friends and family of Insomnia, and all of Lucis,” he begins.  “We as a nation and we as a people have made it through so much chaos. So much chaos and uncertainty that the dark seemed endless before us. But as I look upon you all today and think of those in the far reaches of the world who are listening, I’m humbled to remember that we are a brave country. We are a kingdom who has refused to bow before any threat and leave those unfortunate circumstances to keep us down. This is an irrefutable truth, not proved just by my father’s father, or my father himself, and certainly not myself. But proved by the long lineage of a people whose enrichment lies in their certainty. In the validity of their presence we have found ourselves humbled and moved to action, and thus I must answer my calling for the good of them all. Who are they? Well, they’re all of you, of course. The working women of Lestallum who are listening, hear me now: in the times of Darkness your tireless work kept thousands of lives filled with hope and without that dedication to the future many of us would not be here now. To the farmers and ranchers of Duscae, we see the fruits of your labor in our houses and schools and could not hope to function as a society without your unceasing devotion to your way of life. In times of hardship as well as in peace you have kept our bellies full and roadways filled with jobs, and we must always offer our gratitude and assistance. To the miners of Ravatough and the Disc of Cauthess, and the tradesmen and women of Leide; from the sailors of Caem to the fishers of Altissia; to the Hunters at Meldacio, the scientists of the Capitol, and the ordinary citizens of Lucis and nations beyond, we, the government of Lucis here in Insomnia, offer our thanks.”

There’s a wave of applause from the crowd and Noct leans away from the mic to offer a sincere grin. Press reporters and journalists snap photographs as their cameras roll on for live and archival footage. He turns and see his friends and council applauding as well, pride swelling in his chest.

“Allow me, as your fellow countryman and King, to be frank, however: much of the years behind us have no entirely left. On the national and world conscience remains several unanswered questions, many of which we may never discover a clear, concise answer to. But as many of you have heard, whether by the TV, radio, or word of mouth, there is a ghost which haunts Lucis’ past. A figure which we cannot ascertain the origins of entirely, but can assure you, is not of a malignant nature. I have faced many ghosts in my time, as Prince and as King, and this is why I address you all here today. A duty of the King, prescribed to me by my ancestors for over a millennia, is to solve the pressing questions of our times and use my power to provide a safe existence for you all. For what is a King, or a Queen, or any leader, sovereign or no, without the support of their people?”

He pauses and looks over the crowd, breaking composure just slightly to lighten the mood.

“By the looks of the crowd, you’d think I was announcing my own funeral.”

There’s scattered laughter and clapping, so he continues.

“So I address the nation, and to all those listening today, to tell you that I shall be leaving the Capital once more, as I did more than ten years ago, to embark on a journey of discovery.”

There’s little to no noise from the crowd but the press has resumed taking a plethora of pictures.

“Our destinations, plural, cannot be disclosed at this time for the matter of security. But with me, I take my most trusted advisors: Ignis Scientia, who has long served me as my Advisor and now the General of our defense; Gladiolus Amicitia, the Captain of our own Kingsglaive and my Shield; and Prompto Argentum, a son of our country and Ambassador to Niflheim, who, long ago, spilled his drink on my term paper in study hall.”

Prompto purses his lips in an attempt to stifle his laughter but his face turns red from ears to nose. Noct waves at him.

“Mr. Acosta, if you’re among the listening today, you have Ambassador Argentum’s full confession on stage. I’d like my B changed to a B+ now.”

The audience roars and Ignis puts a hand on Prompto’s shoulder, which shakes with laughter. Noct turns back to the microphone and continues.

“Joining us will be Queen Lunafreya Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae…”

The applause from the crowd drowns out his words and Noct raises his eyebrows with a smile, lifting a hand to ask for silence.

“And her General, Ravus Nox Fleuret.”

The roar of the crowd livens and Noct offers a hand to Luna. She takes it and waves to the people, Noct handing the podium over to her. He steps back to stand beside Ignis and leans in when they can hear one another over the noise.

“They like her better than their own King.”

“The Queen has garnered much love from the people of Insomnia, Your Majesty. I would be concerned were they not to show this much approval.”

“You put that part in my speech just to let her upstage me, didn’t you?”

Ignis pushes up his visor with a sly smile.

“You have charisma, Noct. But Lunafreya is still the Oracle. While a Prince was taking lectures and study hall, she was becoming the world’s youngest Oracle to ascend to the title. The people of Lucis and beyond adore her for this reason.”

He hears Luna laugh into the mic and watches Ravus stand behind the podium, eyes watching the crowd.

“I am blessed to be here today,” she begins. “To tell you all in-person that my brother and I shall be joining King Noctis on his journey across Lucis. We Nox Fleuret have long served alongside the Lucis Caelum to bring about peace to Eos, and as Queen of Tenebrae and Oracle, I ask for your support and understanding as we prepare for and complete this task.”

Her words are met with honest approval and Noct applauds with the crowd.

“The Gods, though they rest, still watch over us with a mighty eye, and from divine providence do we take our destiny in hand. Many answers must still be found in the soil of the earth and the legacies of our forebears, and with great optimism my brother and I, hand-in-hand with the capable leaders of Lucis, will deliver these answers to you in earnesty.”

She lifts her hands and clasps them to her chest

“I ask of you now, with our hopes and dreams in our hearts, to join me in a prayer for the safety of our retinue and continued shedding of mercy from the Gods.”

The audience falls completely silent and hands, of all sizes and shapes, come together in respect. Noct is one of the last to close his eyes, flashes of white and black appearing in his vision alongside Lunafreya before he completely closes them. He swears he smells the scent of flowers drifting in the air.

“Gods above, hear my plea,” Luna begins.

“From your grace we have prospered as nations, and arisen to the light from so long in the Darkness. We ask you now, hearts and hands bared, to keep us safe, and deliver us from any force which would seek to do us harm.”

Noct’s eyes crack open and he feels, from below layers and layers of dark clothes, the Crystal glowing beneath his skin. He places a hand to his heart and feels its steady beat there, his fingers brushing Ignis’ when he lets them fall to his side. The crowd slowly lifts their heads and it’s in this moment of quiet awe which a reporter screams out a question.

“Lady Lunafreya! Are you and King Noctis planning to get married?”

There’s confusion from the crowd and Noct keeps his composure. Lunafreya’s voice is apprehensive but still emits sophistication.

“King Noctis and I are close friends, yes, and our union is one of Chosen King to Oracle and fellow sovereigns of a nation. But this is where our relationship ends. We’ve no plans, or time to make plans, for a marriage between us.”

The confusion from the audience grows. Some of it sounds positive, other parts disappointed. Ignis steps forward and helps Lunafreya from the podium, she and Ravus making their way back to the side of the stage. Gladio and Prompto scoot down to accommodate them and Noct’s chest grows tight.

“We understand your cause for concern,” Ignis says to the crowd. “And though unprompted the question may be it is still one of the many questions we seek to provide answers to.”

Luna leans over to Noct, composure rock solid.

“You wouldn’t think…?”

“No,” he answers. “Iggy isn’t gonna say anything. He’s too smart to do it now. He’s got something else planned.”

“This wasn’t exactly part of the plan,” Prompto says to him and Noct agrees.

“I know, but I trust him to play it off and get them on our side again.”

“You shouldn’t have addressed the question, Lunafreya,” Ravus warns from the end of the line. “This is neither the time or the place.”

Ignis calls for Noct to join him at the podium and he swallows once, a drop of fear falling into his stomach.

“Apparently for Ignis, it is,” Gladio comments. Noct waves to the crowd and plays off his embarrassment, standing beside Ignis as Ravus had done for Luna.

“For many years I have served King Noctis as his friend and Advisor,” Ignis says. The press is absolutely eating this impromptu speech up.

“And am honored to share another journey with him across the land of Lucis. So it is, with great humility, I assure those listening that the Lucis Caelum bloodline is in no jeopardy, despite the nullification of King Noctis and Queen Lunafreya’s engagement before the Years of Darkness.”

Noct takes a sigh of relief and is even more so when the crowd seems to join him. He’s not ashamed of his relationship with Iggy, but like Ravus said, there’s a time and a place to announce these things. They could do it after they return.

“If I have answers,” Ignis continues. “It is my duty to provide them. And if I do not, it is my duty to find them, whatever the cost. Such is the life of Advisor of the King. But I trust, with all the faith of my heart, that in return I will be provided the truth.”

Ignis turns to Noct and he looks at him, question in his eyes. Ignis smiles gently and offers him a polite hand, pulling him up and onto the podium. Someone comes forward and moves the microphone and stand, and in front of the audience of Insomnia, the cameras, and the microphones for the radio, Ignis pulls a ring from his pocket and drops to one knee, black velvet box sitting in an ungloved palm.

“Noctis Lucis Caelum,” he starts, and there’s a battle in the audience between screaming and holding their breath. Noctis’ own breath has quickened and he feels his eyes widen, kingly composure breaking. Ignis reaches up with his free hand and plucks the visor from his face, folding the arms and tucking them into his suit jacket. His eyes are bright with hope, and the way the sun is hitting his face makes him look like the most divine being in the world.

“I have stood with you, through the easy and the difficult, and watched as your metamorphosis from Prince to regal King unfolded before the world. As your longtime Advisor, General, and perhaps most importantly, friend, I ask you to provide me an answer to a question which has long swelled within my heart.”

He slowly reaches up and opens the box in his hand. In it, sitting among red silk, is a bright gold ring, delicately carved and lined with black obsidian. Noct can’t help the hand that shoots to his mouth. Time slows down around him and he can feel his pulse beating out of control. The clamoring of hands and voices disappears and all he can see is Ignis, kneeling before him. It’s entirely unreal, but before Noct can dismiss it as another dream he casts a glance beside him for what feels like an eternity, but in reality, only takes a few seconds. Luna has both hands to her mouth in astonishment. Beside her, Prompto is all but leaping and Gladio has a hand to his chin, approving look cast at Ignis. Even Ravus, in his stoicism, has a closed-lipped smile plastered across his features. Noct spies his reflection in a camera and swears he can see his father in his own face, head nodding and gentle smile ushering him to answer. His gaze returns to Ignis and time catches up with him, the flood of noise a shock to his senses. He tries hard to swallow around the giant lump that’s formed in his throat. He should say something.

“Noctis…” Ignis says, and his attention snaps back to him. Ignis corrects himself.

“Noct, will you marry me?”

Wow. So much for announcing it when they return.

He looks out at the audience and the flashes from the cameras temporarily blinds him. But past the beams of white and yellow, through the gold rays cast down from the high sun, he can see sparkling tears in the eyes of his people. There’s dedication there, real and true love for their King. Some of these people have been working for Lucis since he was biting ankles and have watched him, just like Ignis, grow from a boy to a man. From “son” to “sir,” from Your Highness to Your Majesty, thousands have supported him, inviting him into their homes, businesses, and ultimately leaving the fate of the world in his hands. And they’ve each taken a piece of the load from his shoulders and placed it upon their own in hopes of one day seeing their dreams of peace and good fortune realized.

He really should say something.

“I…”

He pauses, unsure of what to say next. He hears Prompto insistently whispering, “Take the ring! Take the fuckin’ ring!” and swallows again, eyes finding Ignis’. He’s waiting at his feet in patient dedication. He lifts his eyebrows and leans slightly into the mic secured to his jacket.

“It appears I’ve been told to leave a message after the beep.”

Laughter erupts from the crowd mixed with scattered applause, some indistinguishable chanting floating up from within the swell in addition. Slowly, Noct reaches out and takes the ring box, bringing it closer to his face. The gold glimmers in the sunlight, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t place the blame on the sun this time. Tears fall down his face and he brings a hand up to wipe them away, several sobs wracking his shoulders. Ignis stands and pets his arms, voice light and teasing.

“Come now,” he says and politely urges Noct to pull his hand away from his face. “Am I to have you as my husband or not?”

Noct pulls his wet hand away and smiles, meeting his eyes.

“You cheeky bastard. Of course I’ll marry you.”

There’s a Prompto-shaped blur behind them that darts to the microphone stand, yanking it up and out of it’s holder.

“It’s a yes! He said yes!!”

Noct pulls himself into Ignis’ chest as the crowd explodes, face buried in his shoulder. His grip is so tight and he never wants to let go of this moment of little nirvana. Ignis tries to pull away several times before succeeding, plucking the ring box from Noctis’ hand. He pulls off his gloves and hands them to Prompto, then takes the ring itself from the box. He shuts it and stuffs it into his pocket, taking Noct’s left hand in his right and slides the decorative band over his knuckle. It fits smoothly and snugly at the base of his finger and he chokes out another happy sob, reaching for Ignis’ hand to intertwine their fingers. In sync, they press their foreheads together and Noct realizes that Ignis is laughing. He’s not crying like Noct but is laughing out of pure joy, thumb rubbing over his, eyes crinkled at their edges. He brings their hands to his lips and presses a long kiss to the top of Noct’s, swaying back and forth before wrapping him in another hug. In this moment his heart is not his own: it belongs to Ignis. And Noct isn’t sure, even when he’s surrounded in the arms of his closest friends and congratulated before a crowd of thousands, that it will ever belong solely to him again.


	16. Reflections, Refractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we now know how many chapters will be in this piece of the story!!

The news for the next week contains nothing but the royal engagement. So when Prompto loudly reminds him, for another day in a row, of this fact, Noct feels the same stupid grin cover his face like it has been almost nonstop. He swears he’s getting more wrinkles from being happy than from stress or aging.

“So, when are the lovebirds going to hold the ceremony?” Prompto asks. Noct shrugs and gets up from his desk, pouring himself a glass of water.

“Not until we’re back from the trip,” he answers. Prompto leans casually against the table and fixes him with a look over his glasses.

“You gonna make it public? Or a little more private?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Are there gonna be flowers?”

“Probably.”

“And muuusic?”

“Prooobably.”

“Who’s the photographer?”

Noct sets his cup back down on the tray, amused.

“We can’t plan a wedding just yet: we’ve got work to do. Don’t worry about it.”

He pats Prompto’s shoulder and walks past him back to his desk. He picks up his pen and resumes making notes in the margins of his document. From his peripheral he can see a blond head saunter towards him and take a seat on the edge of his desk, casually looking at the ceiling.

“I mean, I know of a couple of guys who could take some good photos. They don’t have to be of the ceremony... just of you two in general.”

“Oh yeah?” he responds disinterestedly.

“Yeah. Get a little sexy thing going on for the press. I’m talking lingerie and everything.”

He stretches his legs out and plants both feet on the wood of Noct’s desk, completing the look by throwing his head back like a mudflap girl.

“Oh, Iggy!” he cries in a heightened voice. “Take me now and never let me go!”

Noct looks up from his work and chuckles.

“Don’t you have something to do? Something besides,”

He reaches forward and shoves at Prompto’s feet. The blond laughs and stands, leaning over Noct’s work to wipe away his dusty footprints. Noct continues his thought.

“Distracting me with your dirty mind.”

Prompto circles around behind his seat and plants both hands on his shoulders, massaging them lightly.

“C’mon, Noct, don’t act like a virgin. Tell me Iggy wouldn’t like to see you in frills. It’ll be a gift, from husband to husband.”

“I think you’re confusing us with yourself and Gladio. I don’t have a girl’s figure.”

“Well, I don’t, either. They make lacy panties for dudes.”

“Can it. I’m not wearing lingerie to bed. Besides, we’re not even married yet. Sex comes after marriage.”

Prompto blows a raspberry and leans against his chair. Noct drops his pen, resigned to not getting his work done.

“What, you gonna lecture me about my sex life now?”

He shrugs. “It’s gonna change once you’re married. Better think about how to spice it up before it gets boring.”

“I don’t know what is and isn’t boring. We haven’t slept together.”

Prompto’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. His thick glasses fall down his nose and he pushes them up with two fingers, all the while not breaking eye contact. Noct laughs at him.

“What’s with that reaction?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Why would I be?”

Prompto spreads his hands and lifts his shoulders in exasperation.

“Dude, that’s what boyfriends do. What any couple with a sex drive does. They have sex.”

“Are couples who don’t have sex before marriage weird?”

“In this day and age? Yes.”

Now it’s Noctis’ turn to blow a raspberry. Prompto shoves at him.

“I’m serious, man. What you’re telling me is that you, Noctis, 114th King of Lucis, totally handsome and charismatic when you want to be, have never gotten laid?”

Noct scrunches his face and looks away.

“Don’t put it like that. That’s just gross.”

Prompto laughs incredulously in response.

“That’s kinda awesome. I can’t believe I lost my v-card before you.”

Noct’s head shoots to him.

“Not by that much. You and Gladio only got together, like, a month ago.”

“Doesn’t mean he was my first.”

Noct fixes him with a disbelieving look.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” Prompto says in a mocking tone. Noct slaps his leg and Prompto laughs in pain. He slaps him in the same spot for good measure.

“Who was it then, huh? Who made the golden boy into a golden man?”

“It was Cindy, okay? It was Cindy!”

He groans and covers his face, then groans louder when Prompto barks hysterically.

“What, you jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You suuure about that?”

“I am  _ not  _ jealous.”

“Alright, then you’re envious.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Envious means you want what you don’t got!”

He lifts himself from the side of Noct’s chair and stretches his arms above his head, making a noise that sounds a little too self-gratifying.

“But, I gotta say, that’s totally sweet. Iggy really is a gentleman, through and through.”

Noct picks up his pen again and taps it lightly against his palm.

“Yeah, he is.”

“You’re lucky, you know?” Prompto replies, flopping down into one of the chairs in front of his desk. “To have someone who loves you enough to knock the press off their feet with a public proposal? To put himself out there to save you and Luna from answering anymore questions about that damn engagement. ‘Cause we both know he would’ve done it in private if he had his way, and not until you were both good and ready.”

“I think we were ready,” Noct answers. Prompto meets his eyes and Noct nods assuredly.

“I’ve been in love with Iggy since before I knew what love was. He and I have always been together, and I still hate myself for not telling him that before he…”

He swallows once and looks down at his lap.

“Before he tried to kill himself for me.”

Prompto sits up and slides a hand across the surface of the desk, palm turned upwards. Noct places his hand in it and squeezes, lips tightening into a thin line. Prompto squeezes it back.

“I could’ve lost him, Prom. Things could’ve been so much harder if even one little event had changed. If we were a couple minutes too late for one thing, or too early for another, he could’ve ended up like Nyx.”

Prompto looks away, and when his gaze returns there’s a firmness in his eyes.

“But he didn’t. And now Nyx is back. His proposal may not have gone as smooth as Iggy’s but he’s gonna keep trying. And we have to find out how he got back here, for him and for Luna. So they can be happy like you and Iggy. Because I’ll tell you right now, Noct. Buddy. Amigo. You and Iggy? You’re gonna be the happiest couple on the planet. Wanna know how I know?”

Noct nods. Prompto continues.

“Don’t ask me how I know! Ask me how I don’t.”

“How don’t you know?”

“I dunno. What I do know I don’t know is what color lingerie Iggy likes best.”

Noct chuckles and pats their clasped hands.

“Don’t ask him. Remember, we’re not married yet.”

“ _ Yet _ is the keyword. I’ll need to know for when you  _ are. _ ”

He bows his head in defeat. After a beat, he responds.

“I’m glad you’re my friend, Prompto. What would I do without you?”

“I’m not sure. But you’re stuck with me, so I guess we’ll never find out.”

 

Just when he thought the royal engagement fever was over with, Noct gets a call on his cell phone.

“Noctis, old buddy. It’s me, Vyv Dorden. Got a minute?”

He groans inwardly.

“Vyv Dorden, as in the President of Meteor Publishing?”

“That’s right, Your Majesty. I’m honored you remember me. Then again, I’m rather unforgettable.”

Noct snorts then remembers he’s probably being recorded.

“How did you get this number?”

“Word travels fast in my area of work. I’ve got some questions for you and your beloved husband-to-be. Y’know, concerning your future as the Kings of Lucis. It would be an exclusive, of course.”

“I thought you didn’t deal with tabloid gossip,” Noct questions and Vyv laughs.

“This isn’t your run of the mill gossip: I’ve been predicting you two as a couple for years now! Don’t tell me you’ve never read one of my articles.”

Noct has, in fact, never read one of his articles.

“But that’s beside the point. My questions aren’t going to be personal. They’re about your family. See, I’ve done my research into your bloodline, and the number of kings and queens who’ve married their Advisor? Zip. Zilch. What you’re doing is making history, Your Majesty, and I want to be the first to break that news to the good people of Lucis. I want to let them know that things are changing, and from a royal stand point, for the better! Think you can pull that favor for your old buddy Vyv?”

“Look, Vyv,” Noct starts, but Vyv interrupts.

“I know it’s all very new to you, the whole love and romance and letting your life be public knowledge, but people deserve to know, don’t they? You’ve always been the enigmatic Prince, locked away from sight within the walls of the Citadel. The mysterious Chosen King, emerging on an ancient island after ten years spent in the Crystal of legend. And now, the beloved King-- highest approval rating in royal history-- suddenly engaged to his boyfriend of an indeterminate amount of time when we didn’t even know you were dating. Nobody knows the real truth about you. Isn’t it time for some transparency?”

Noct sighs into the receiver, head shaking side to side.

“I understand what you’re saying. But I can’t give you an answer as to when I’ll be ready to, you know, spill the beans? It may be a while.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need me to, Majesty,” he replies optimistically. “I’ll tell you what. You keep my number saved, call me when you’re ready. I won’t call you. Deal?”

“Deal,” Noct replies. They say goodbye and he ends the call, hand rising to his forehead to rub at the tension. Ignis has been dealing with the questions about their wedding nonstop, even from Glaives and staff members of the Citadel. Noct looks at the ring on his finger and smiles, knowing that he’s out there wearing the same one. It’s a promise in waiting, and the difference between other men making promises and Ignis making one? He’s never made a promise he couldn’t keep.

 

The day they leave for Hammerhead, Noct, Ignis, Prompto, Luna, Ravus, and Nyx all spend the night at Gladio’s. Noct had suggested they do it at Prompto’s apartment downtown but he insisted that his place isn’t as near as cool as Gladio’s.

“I’m hardly there besides to sleep. I also don’t have this kickass new surround sound installed like he does.”

Cor calls to confirm where’s he’s picking them up tomorrow to drive them to get the Regalias.

“It’ll be a tight squeeze, but not like you boys haven’t all piled in together before. Just watch your manners around the Queen. I take it she’s never been camping before, let alone with five men and her bulldog of a brother, so I invited Iris along for the trip to make things more comfortable.”

“Iris?” Noct asks.

“Yeah. I know you two haven’t spoken since you got back but if not now then when, right? I’ll bring her with me tomorrow so don’t worry about ordering any more pizza.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

He and Ignis are the first ones to arrive. Gladio answers the door and invites them in. They pull off their shoes and spot Prompto sitting at the center island. He waves once then points to the phone against his ear-- a nonverbal way to communicate that he can’t greet them just yet.

“Ravus and Luna on their way?” Noct asks.

“Yeah. Don’t forget about Nyx. He better not throw shit in my house or I’m gonna kick his ass out to the curb,” Gladio grumbles and shuts the door behind them. He shows them to the guest bedroom and points out the various facilities, adding that there’s a designated drawer for their car keys.

“Since we’ll be gone for a while, Cor’s gonna bring some Glaives ‘round and stick our cars in long-term parking at the Citadel. We won’t be needin’ ‘em, right?”

Ignis chuckles and fishes them from his pocket, laying them gently into the Shield’s outstretched hand. He jingles them once and gestures with his thumb.

“Now let’s go have a beer and wait for those guys.”

When they enter the kitchen again, Prompto is just finishing up his call and sets his phone on the counter.

“Who was that?” Noct asks and offers him a beer, popping the lid off with his hands then passing it over. Prompto takes a swig before answering.

“My building manager. I had to make sure to tell her I was gonna be away for a while, so if she doesn’t hear from me it’s because I’m gone and not dead somewhere.”

“Sounds like a fun conversation.”

“I have my rent on autopay so it’s not like we really talk, anyways.”

Ignis joins Noct and rubs a hand on his lower back.

“Why don’t you move in with Gladio? It appears as if he has the room to spare.”

Prompto blinks and Gladio answers instead.

“I’ve offered, but he says it’s just not the time.”

“Not like I don’t want to,” Prompto defends. “My lease isn’t up for another eight months. You know how much that’ll hurt my credit if I skip out on it?”

“I think you just have commitment issues,” Noct teases.

“Give our lad a break,” Ignis quips. “It’s not as if Miss Cindy offered him more than a warm bed for a night. Things would be different if he’d been invited back.”

Noct chokes on his beer when he laughs. Ignis pulls out a tissue and offers it to him in response. Prompto gives him an incredulous look.

“You told?”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Ignis answers. “Your behaviors are indicative of a one-night stand: she thinks nothing of it whilst you find yourself overthinking things.”

Prompto’s eyes dart back and forth between them, Ignis smiling triumphantly and Noct laughing into his tissue. Gladio takes a drink from his beer, obviously taking joy in the torture.

“Busted,” he says. Prompto hits him on the arm. Gladio wrestles him off of his stool and plops him on top of the counter, standing in between his legs and cupping his face despite how Prompto is pointedly avoiding eye contact.

“It’s not ‘cause you’re bad. You’re just not her type,” he says. Noct and Ignis exchange glances and Prompto shoves his face away, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It happened twice, okay? And I got her off both times.”

There’s a chorus of  _ ooohs _ and Prompto fights until he’s standing on the ground again, eyeing Noctis and taking a long gulp of his beer.

“It’s none of you guys’ business, anyways. It’s not like we’re dating anymore.”

Gladio takes his wrist and kisses it once.

“Better not be, else Cindy and I might need to have some words.”

Prompto sticks his tongue out and sits back on his stool at the center island. The doorbell rings and Gladio sets aside his drink to answer it. Prompto picks up his phone with exaggerated interest.

“It’s not nice to ignore company,” Noct says to him. Ignis agrees.

“Indeed. Put it away and let’s have a chat.”

“No way,” Prompto says, looking up for a moment then back down at his screen. “You guys are mean.”

Gladio walks by and there’s Luna in tow, followed by Ravus and Nyx. Luna waves to them and they wave back before she and Ravus follow Gladio to their rooms. Prompto stands and shakes Nyx’s hand then goes to the fridge. Nyx pulls a stool to the end of the island and sits, accepting the beer from Prompto with thanks. He lifts a hand to Ignis and Noctis.

“Congrats on the wedding, Your Majesty,” he says. “Let’s hope it actually gets that far this time.”

“No more roadblocks on the way to happily ever after,” Ignis concurs and they toast their drinks. Ignis is drinking an Ebony instead of beer and Nyx gestures to it.

“You drink coffee this late at night?”

“It helps me to focus.”

“On what?”

“Anything, and everything. We’ve still much to plan tonight, and with the lot of you consuming alcohol there should be at least one decent apple in the barrel.”

Nyx shrugs and sips at his drink. “Works for me.”

Prompto looks up from his phone.

“So how does that work? Will Iggy be considered a King, too?”

“And who takes whose name?” Nyx asks, eyebrow raising. He’s keeping up with the conversation well enough to not betray the fact that he’s been socially withdrawn for over a month.

“Well,” Noct starts and looks at Ignis. “There’s not exactly a chart to follow to find out Iggy’s new title. Your family’s pretty high up there but still, I don’t think this has ever happened before. You’d wanna keep your last name, right? There’s no rule about having to take mine just because I’m King.”

“Certainly,” he replies. “Though I feel a hyphenation might suit us just fine. Noctis Lucis Caelum-Scientia.”

“Ahh, that’s too much of a mouthful.”

Ignis laughs suggestively into his can and Noct meets the judging eyes of Nyx and Prompto. He lifts a finger to them.

“Not a word.”

Nyx lifts his hands in surrender but Prompto fusses in response.

“So you’ve done that before marriage but not normal sex?”

“What constitutes normal?”

“I guess two nights with a car mechanic, then some years on a dry spell, then giving it up on the first date to the guard Captain.”

“Whom I’ve known for over half of my life; and it wasn’t on the first night, you assholes. Why am I even telling you this?”

“Because we’re egging you on and you’re easy to aggravate.”

“You guys wouldn’t stand a chance with the girls from Galahd,” Nyx adds. It’s the first time Noct thinks he’s seen him relax his shoulders. He takes Ignis’ hand under the table and feels his thumb run back and forth over his knuckle.

“Oh yeah? Bet you never tried to propose to one of them,” Noct quickly shoots. Nyx inclines his head and a muscle in his jaw twitches.

“Oh ho, my turn to do the roasting,” Prompto says and turns in his seat. “So, what? You think you honestly have a chance with Lunafreya? She’s a Queen.”

“I don’t have to tell you guys anything,” he says and drinks from his beer. He’s saying it casually but he’s on the defense, Noct knows. There’s no way they’re getting the details from him now or possibly ever.

“Did she return the ring?” Prompto asks. Nyx purses his lips.

“Like I said, I don’t have to say anything.”

“We’re gonna find out anyways.”

Prompto takes a long drink and sighs, hand reaching out and patting Nyx’s arm. “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us. Better start breaking the ice or we’re gonna have a lot of awkward fireside chats.”

“I’ll sleep outside, thanks,” he says and stands, moving past the island and walking down the stairs to the living room. Prompto makes a squeezing gesture with the hand that comforted Nyx and mouths “firm” at Noct, who shakes his head. Gladio, Luna, and Ravus reenter the room and Noct sips at his warming drink. Ignis’ hand moves from their sides to pet at Noct’s thigh. Noct tries to catch his eye surreptitiously but he avoids looking his direction, instead giving the Nox Fleurets his attention.

“Happy to be joining us?” he asks and Luna nods.

“Indeed. It has been quite some time since I’ve been outside of the Citadel. To see the countryside will be a breath of fresh air. I’m sure nothing is as I remember.”

Prompto offers each of them a drink but they both refuse. Gladio takes it, though, and Noct trades his warm one for a cool one.

“So, what are we eating?” Noct asks. Gladio shrugs.

“Pizza. Or Cup Noodles.”

“Please,” Ignis tuts. “Surely you have something of more substance than that, Gladiolus.”

He looks unapologetic.

“My food’s focused on flavor and protein content. I doubt there’s anythin’ I could make that you all would like.”

“I’m certain I can,” Ignis asserts and stands, making his way to the pantry. Noct misses the warmth of his fingers but equally enjoys hearing him berate Gladio for his lack of ingredients. It’s unusual to see Luna and especially Ravus dressed casually. She’s still in a skirt and heels while he’s in a t-shirt and suit jacket.

“Will you keep your beard, Noctis,” Luna begins and reaches for his face. “Or will you continue to shave it off?”

“Nah,” he responds and strokes his own jaw. “Now that I’ve gotten in the habit of shaving I think I’ll keep it up.”

She giggles and lightly pinches his cheek.

“I bet Ignis likes it better this way. It makes you look younger.”

He smiles into his chest and smoothes a hair from Luna’s face.

“You know, while we’re out in the wild, you won’t always be able to put on makeup. You gonna be okay with that?”

Ravus snorts and Luna rolls her eyes at him.

“I assure you, makeup is the least of my worries.”

She looks past him at Nyx in the living room before speaking again.

“What is he doing?”

“I think all this tech’s new to him,” Prompto says and eyes Nyx with her. “A lot of stuff’s the same since before the Fall but we’ve got some new things that he probably doesn’t know about.”

Nyx is flipping through a magazine, beer in hand. Gladio approaches the island.

“Shrimp stirfry sound good to everyone?” he asks. There’s a general assent.

“Dude, I’m so excited if this means we get to eat Iggy’s food again,” Prompto replies and sets his beer down on a coaster. Noct’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes it out.

_ I’m so excited to see you guys again! now I finally get to show off my muscles ೭੧(❛▿❛✿)੭೨ _

He smiles at the screen and passes it to Lunafreya. She reads the message first then the sender.

“Will she be joining us?” she asks. Noct nods. Prompto takes the phone and reads it as well.

“What? No way! We get to have Iris the daemon hunter on our side. I smell success in our future.”

Gladio and Ignis are working in the kitchen but Gladio’s ears perk up when he hears his sister’s name. He wipes his hand on a towel and approaches Noct.

“What’s this about Iris?”

“Cor says she’s coming with us on our trip. She sent me a message saying she’s excited.”

Gladio pulls his own phone from his pocket and opens a text.

“She sent the same thing to me. Wonder why I wasn’t told beforehand?”

Noctis shrugs.

“He only told me on a call before we left. I guess it was really last minute.”

“I should be honored to travel alongside such a group,” Luna says. “Though I must insist, if anyone else wishes to join us they must bring a third Regalia lest we all be uncomfortable.”

Noct chuckles, then looks out at Nyx. He gets up from his seat and waltzes down the stairs. The Glaive looks up as he approaches.

“See anything interesting?” he asks.

“What the hell is a P-series carburetor?” Nyx responds, lifting the magazine. Noct glances over at the magazine where there’s a full-page ad for Coenix car upgrades.

“It’s like your average car carburetor, but built to process P-series fuel instead.”

“Which is...?”

“New gas, basically. It hasn’t completely eradicated the need for your average gasoline but more and more new cars are able to take it. They make it out of compost and trash, so it’s big because of the recycling factor. There’s a lab here in the city that makes it.”

“Is there a big smoke stack or something? ‘Cause that’s gotta produce a lot of byproduct.”

“They don’t burn anything to make it,” he answers and Nyx’s eyebrows crease.

“I don’t really understand the science of it but it involves biodegradable chemicals that melt it. Or something.”

He scratches the back of his head.

“Ignis and Cindy could probably tell you more than I could.”

Nyx sighs and flips through a few pages, scans them, then shuts it.

“Tell me I’m not the only one missing out on stuff. You were gone for, what, ten years? That’s only two more than me.”

“The difference is, though,” Noct starts. “People weren’t exactly innovating in those ten years. Sure, some of the discoveries and stuff they made are still in use today, but it wasn’t until the Light came back that the technology shift really took off again. We sort of picked up where we left off before Insomnia fell.”

Nyx snorts.

“You sound like you had that answer planned out in your head.”

A sigh.

“So it’s those two years that screwed me over,” Nyx says and shakes his head. Noct lifts his drink in a small salute, half in commiseration and half as a joke.

“We’ll get you some encyclopedias to read.”

He wanders off from the Glaive and finds Gladio’s movie collection. In the kitchen he can hear chairs scraping the floor and assumes they’ve moved from the small center island to the larger dining table. There’s laughter and chatter and he can’t help but feel, with an extreme contentment in his chest, that everything was meant to turn out this way.

 

He wakes up to thunder and rain sometime early in the morning. The curtains in their room are drawn but the early grey light peeks through the edges. He’s spooning Ignis and senses that beyond the bed it’s rather chilly. His hands, feet, and face are far too warm against his  fianc é ’s body to move, and he doesn’t plan on it. At first.

A moment after he closes his eyes the Crystal pulsates and there’s an uncomfortable twinge to accompany it. It fizzes out, then happens again. He jerks slightly and pulls away from Ignis, turning to the bedside table. His phone says 4:01AM. That’s only two hours after everyone said good night. He shimmies the blankets from his legs and stretches in the coolness of the room, eyes slowly opening and shutting as they adjust to being awake. He stands and shuffles over to the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him. The light pops on with annoying swiftness and Noct all but collapses against the sink.

He desperately pulls at the buttons of his top, sweat dripping from his skin, forehead burning. He wrangles it off of his arms in a fever and lets it puddle on the tile floor. Staring back at him from the mirror, he realizes in astonishment, is his bare chest.

He’s breathing heavily and his face is flushed but otherwise there’s nothing out of the ordinary. The Crystal has stopped glowing beneath his skin and when he touches a hand to it there’s no reaction.

“This doesn’t make sense,” he whispers. He examines himself once more in the light of the guest bathroom, turning to one side then the other. There’s a purple bruise where Ignis had used his teeth when kissing at his neck, as well as a row of delicate red marks on his lower back, but nothing that wasn’t there before is on him.

Noct turns on the faucet and splashes his face with water, goosebumps popping up all over his arms. On his bicep he touches a finger to a scar, given to him long ago by Ardyn. He turns completely around and traces the raised skin of a much larger, and much more deadly, scar with the pads of his fingers. Exasperated and exhausted, he picks up his shirt but doesn’t bother buttoning it back up, just slips it over his arms and onto his shoulders.

Ignis is still asleep when he steps back into their room. He quietly slips in beside him and pushes the blond hair from the back of his neck, pressing his face into his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. For the rest of the night, he dreams in black and white.

 

In the morning, Noct feels Ignis stir beneath his arms. A minute later, his phone alarm goes off and he reaches for it, shutting it off and gently freeing himself from Noct’s grasp. Noct instead pushes his face sleepily against his neck and trails his hands upwards, letting them settle not so secretly on Ignis’ chest. There’s a brief laugh from underneath his palms.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” he says, voice deep with sleep. A hand rests over his and their rings touch one another, a silent contact of gold on gold.

“You’ve much to look forward to concerning the wedding,” he says and brings Noct’s left hand to his face. He kisses it once and pokes at the band on his finger.

“I have a few ideas in mind concerning additions.”

“What additions?” he breathes deeply. He savors the fresh, almost floral scent of Ignis’ hair product.

“Your engagement ring and marriage one are not the same,” he answers. There’s no more rain outside.

“There must be a modification to it, whether it’s adding onto the existing one or procuring an altogether replacement.”

“I like this one,” he replies with a yawn. He pulls Ignis closer to him and examines their hands with new clarity, sleep blinked away. “You did a good job picking it out.”

“I certainly took my time.”

He rolls over in Noct’s arms and kisses him on the forehead, sweeping away the dark hair that’s fallen into his face.

“You’re not going to ask how I knew the right size to choose?”

Noct smiles.

“Knowing you, you knew all along. Kept it tucked away in your head for some future use.”

“Were it so. You have a tendency to leave your personal items in my bathroom or on the bedside table. Leaving a ring, especially one which you wear on a daily basis, is a bold move. How am to know it wasn’t on purpose?”

Noct threads his fingers through his hair.

“You sneaky monkey. I trusted you around the Ring. I’m not that clever, anyways.”

“So you say.”

Noct laughs again and Ignis smiles warmly. He runs a knuckle over his cheekbone.

“I must be the luckiest man on Eos to wake up to you every day.”

Noct’s heart flutters in his chest and he leans inwards, eyes searching Ignis’ face. He closes them and presses a chaste kiss to his lips, Ignis immediately responding. His hand skirts down to his chest where he pushes open the fabric of his shirt all the way.

“You already had it ready for me,” he teases. Noct rolls his eyes and sits up, pulling it the rest of the way down his arms. He lays back down and Ignis takes hold of him, gesturing to him to roll on top. Noct obliges and plants his elbows on either side of his head, kisses open-mouthed and languid. He pulls away and looks Ignis in the eyes.

“You really wanna wait until we’re married to do this?”

Ignis’ eyebrows go up slightly but otherwise he remains placid.

“It would be presumptuous of me to ask you to bed before such a time.”

“Presumptuous,” he repeats back flatly. Ignis catches his disbelief.

“We’re not a… traditional couple, so to speak. I would rather the rumors of royal infidelity be meritless than contain a grain of truth. Call it a safeguard.”

Noct pushes himself up and rolls not too happily off of him. Now it’s Iggy’s turn to hug him from behind.

“Don’t be upset with me.”

“I’m not,” he answers honestly. He pats Ignis’ hands.

“I guess I’m just eager is all. If you couldn’t tell, I really like you.”

Ignis breathes a surprised laugh against his temple.

“You like me, is it? That’s very good to know.”

“ _ Love _ you, okay? I really  _ love _ you. And I want to share everything with you, including myself.”

He feels soft lips on his neck and relaxes into his touch, a breath escaping his chest. He pushes his hips back on instinct and feels a hardness against his backside. They both freeze.

“Did you just get a boner because I said I loved you?” he asks quietly. Ignis hesitates, then resumes kissing his neck.

“I’m a simple man, you see.”

Noct groans then laughs. Ignis reaches downwards and begins tickling his ribs, Noct letting out a yelp far too loud for the early hour. He clamps a hand over his mouth and looks over his shoulder. He’s met by a smug grin.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“It wouldn’t be me otherwise.”

 

Everyone wakes up and trickles into the kitchen as Ignis and Noct makes coffee. He raids Gladio’s fridge for milk but has no luck finding sugar. When the man in question walks in, scratching his belly and yawning, Noct lays into him.

“No wonder you’re so fit. You don’t keep any sugar around,” he remarks. Gladio opens his eyes and looks around until he finds him.

“That’s why you’re gonna get fat in your mid-years,” he replies and picks up a mug. He pours a cup for himself and drinks it black, smacking his lips at Noct in satisfaction.

“Tastes fine the way it is.”

Ignis pokes his back and he turns to him.

“Go put on a shirt before the Queen awakes. You’ll startle her.”

“Luna won’t mind, right Noct?”

He flexes an arm and Noct looks away disinterestedly, drinking from his cup.

“You look like a thug. Cover up before you poke someone’s eye out.”

Gladio winks and stands straight, patting Noct on the back before retreating to his room. He hears he and Prompto exchange greetings and a loud smack, followed by running feet and more smacking. Prompto emerges rubbing his behind indignantly. He points a finger at Noct.

“Be grateful Iggy’s a gentleman and not an asshole like Gladio.”

Noct belts out a laugh and Ignis smirks, turning back to the stove. Prompto pours himself a cup of coffee, tosses in a splash of milk, and blows on it to cool it down. He glances around the kitchen before speaking again.

“We’re gonna need more mugs,” he comments and sits at the table across from Noct. Noct traces the rim of his own.

“Good thing we brought some for the road. I sense a lot of early mornings and coffee-fueled nights for our future.”

“I’m game,” Prompto replies and sips. He looks back at Ignis.   
“Whatcha makin’?”

“Your average breakfast, with eggs, sausage, and toast. Though I fear we may not have enough bread for all of our eaters.”

“Bummer,” Prompto replies likes he’s not at all bummed out. “Guess that means more sausage for those without toast.”

Gladio reenters and heads downstairs, the lights flicking on and noise resuming from the television. They had decided to watch a movie before bed but got too tired to finish. It had played in its entirety during the night so Gladio switches it to regular cable, heading into his laundry room to get last-minute things.

Ravus walks in and is already dressed and washed, the same outfit as yesterday on his body. Noct looks at his watch.

“You’re ready this early?” he asks. Ravus goes to the sink and leans against the counter, arms crossed.

“I’m eager to begin our journey. The more we delay the further its resolution stands at hand.”

Ignis sets his spatula on a paper towel and wipes his hands on his apron, mimicking Ravus’ posture.

“Do unwind a bit, Ravus,” he chides helpfully and Ravus looks away. Ignis makes to push up his glasses but upon realizing he’s not wearing them sweeps a hand through his hair.

“Unlike our last journey, the fate of the very world does not rest in the balance. There’s more room for relaxation.”

“I find nothing relaxing about this,” he rebukes. “There’s something sinister concerning that Glaive. You’ll forgive me if I do not treat it as a vacation.”

The General turns back to his work and flips a sausage.

“Don’t be disappointed if we don’t find anything,” Prompto says casually, turned in his chair to face the white-haired man.

“We only think we can find stuff better than the Glaives. Doesn’t mean we will.”

“I intend to find something of substance, believe me. I refuse to allow anything to waste my time completely.”

His voice has lost the edge it always carried before. When they were fighting the Empire, Ravus’ tone always seem sharpened into a knife point, ready to kill anyone who got too close. He’s mellowed out over the years and Noct has to wonder if it’s just age making him wiser or if he saw some grey in his white beard and decided to cut down on the angry remarks.

Luna comes in next and is also dressed. She’s left her hair down and isn’t wearing any makeup, opting for a comfortable long-sleeve shirt and scarf. She looks around at them in the kitchen.

“Aren’t you all late risers,” she comments Prompto stands to offer her coffee but she declines.

“Are the rest of them this disheveled?” she asks. Noct sees Ignis smile into his cooking and smiles himself.

“You’re in for a treat,” he says and begins plating the food. He gestures to Prompto and Noct.

“The last I saw, these two take dishelvement to an entirely new level.”

“I resent that remark,” Noct says. “How much treason do you think I’m willing to let slip in this roadtrip?”

“As much as you need to keep us alive,” he shoots back, unflappable as ever. He sets plates down in front of them and goes back to the stove.

“Ravus, Lunafreya, shall you two be eating?”

“We would be remiss to decline your cooking,” the Queen replies and sits. Ravus nods and sits across from her. Gladio had to pull several chairs from storage so only four of them match the table. The rest are a hodgepodge of folding and old dining chairs, accompanied by a couple of stools. He normally doesn’t have this much company so the assortment is forgivable.

Noct takes a bite of his food and looks around, swallowing before speaking.

“Where’s Nyx?”

Gladio comes up the stairs and answers him.

“Dunno. His bedroom door was open when I passed by. Looks like the bed wasn’t even slept in.”

This sets everyone on edge. Noct can feel the tension rise in the room and lifts his hands.

“Everyone, stay calm. He probably doesn’t sleep well. Who here can?”

There’s an unspoken assent and shoulders fall, knives and forks picked up to resume eating. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and stands.

“I’ll go find him.”

He starts downstairs, looking around the living room. He passes into Gladio’s laundry room and the guest rooms beyond, but sees no one. He returns to the living room and watches the TV blankly before moving on. The blinds are disturbed on the far wall so he peeks past them to the patio. No one. The sky has cleared and there’s small puddles of water outside and on the street, the only indication it had rained. He turns around and looks up, meeting Prompto’s eyes.

“He out there?” he asks. Noct shakes his head. Gladio gestures to the back door.

“Check outside. Maybe he left to have a smoke.”

Luna looks at him.

“Nyx doesn’t smoke.”

Ignoring their commentary, Noct makes his way back upstairs and slips on his shoes by the door. It’s slightly chilly in the garage and he fumbles for the light, flicking it on unceremoniously. He rubs his hands over his arms and looks around. He sees Gladio’s and Prompto’s cars where they were last night, silent and still. He makes his way down the drive and pushes open the door to the driveway, where he and Ignis’ car, as well as Luna’s and Ravus’ are parked, dewy with rain. At the edge of the drive sits Nyx, still in his sleep shirt and pants. He hasn’t moved to let Noct knows he’s heard him.

Noct bundles himself in his own arms and makes his way towards him. Upon closer inspection he can see that he’s barefoot, eyes on the sky beyond the adjacent street. Noct sits down on the ground next to him.

“Nice morning,” he comments dryly. Nyx doesn’t reply. Noct lets it go for a couple of seconds, then speaks again.

“You know, Prompto’s right,” he says. Still no reaction.

“You’re gonna have to tell us some stuff to make this trip easier. On everyone, including yourself.”

He finally blinks, head clearing of some fog he encountered in his faraway land. He looks down at his lap and readjusts, flexing his toes.

“I gotta ask a favor,” he replies. His voice sounds hoarse. In the light of day, Noct can see varies tattoos and scars on the profile of his face.

“Go ahead.”

Nyx swallows, then speaks, eyes searching the nothing ahead.

“I need to ask your blessing to marry Lunafreya.”

Noct’s surprised, but also not. He lets his hands rest on his knees, eyes following a passing cloud.

“That seems like something you’d ask a parent. Or her Council. Or Ravus.”

He looks at Nyx.

“Or even her. She seemed pretty upset the first time you asked.”

He sighs, then Nyx sighs. Noct continues.

“You planning on asking again?”

“I can’t just let her get away. Not again. She has a mind of her own-- an awesome, brilliant one. And sometimes I just can’t find the confidence to say the things I need to say.”

Noct nods, recognizing the sentiment.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let it stop me.”

Nyx turns and looks at Noct. His eyes are set, and there’s something behind them that Noct can’t see past. It’s a wall of determination.

“I need to be certain she doesn’t want to. I mean, I’m not an asshole who won’t take no for an answer: I just need to give it my all, really open up, and let her see who I am. Let her know that I didn’t come back on accident.”

“How do you know it wasn’t an accident?”

Nyx shakes his head.

“I don't. Not really. But… stuff like this doesn’t happen without a reason. I didn’t come back here, to Insomnia, to her bedroom window on some happy coincidence. I know she knows this, but she’s scared. We all are. I just gotta get rid of that fear and prove that I’m here to stay.”

Noct studies his face, how his eyebrows crease in worry, and his eyes squint when he emphasizes words. Slowly, he reaches out and touches a long, spidery scar on Nyx’s arm. He flinches slightly and Noct pulls away.

“Sorry,” he says. “I just…”

He rolls up the sleeve on his shirt and reveals a sinewy scar similar to his, gesturing to it lightly.

“That Ring, huh?”

Nyx examines it with a close eye.

“I didn’t think worthy people got burned by it, too.”

“Maybe not as bad as you or Ravus, but it happens.”

Nyx snorts and looks at his feet.

“Gotta say, he’s looking well these days. That what being a traitor gets you around these parts?”

“We have a lot to talk about, Nyx,” Noct replies. He stands and offers a hand. Nyx waves it off, but he insists.

“We were thinking of sending out a search party for you. It’d be better if you show up on your own.”   
He looks at Noct’s hand, then his face before reluctantly grasping it and pulling himself up. The sun breaks through the small cloud coverage above as they begin walking back to the garage door. Noct takes him around the shoulders and meets his expression. He gives his most reassuring look and hopes it conveys his intentions.

“I’m in your corner. You don’t need anything but a brain between your ears and a heart in your chest to see what level of devotion you have to her.”

He lifts a finger and pokes the Glaive on each spot he mentions. Nyx watches his hand but doesn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to prove yourself to me: I already saw everything. And I know that the Crystal sent you back here. My only question is  _ why _ . It’s the others you have to convince. Prompto, probably not by much. Ignis, either. But Gladio and Ravus will need the most proof that you’re all you say you are. If they think you’re great, Luna will follow suit.”

“What about this other person? Gladio’s sister?” Nyx replies.

Noct waves a hand. “Iris is a longtime friend and a champion for underdogs. She’ll probably take one look at you and know your spirit’s in the right place.”

“Not to look a blessing horse in the mouth, Your Majesty, but it’s not a question of whether I’m great. It’s why I came back, and if I’m here to stay.”

Noct nods, pleased. “You’re getting the hang of it. That’s true. But proving that you’re an awesome warrior who will always protect Luna’s interests above your own won’t make things worse, will it?”

Nyx’s lips flatten into a line.

“Is dying for a woman not enough?”

Noct barks a laugh. The wall behind Nyx’s eyes starts to crumble-- just a bit-- when he pats his chest in a friendly manner and squeezes his shoulders.

“Maybe you just need to not die again and that’ll be what convinces everyone.”

“I can’t give you my word, but I’ll try my hardest.”

Noct supposes that will have to do. After all, not every man can keep a promise like his Ignis.

 

Nyx initially declines breakfast but Ignis insists, saying they won’t be stopping on the way for lunch or snacks even after picking up the Regalias. Everyone else has finished and is making final packing preparations while he wolfs down his plate. Ignis is having more coffee, amused.

His phone rings and he breaks from watching Nyx, reaching for the chiming machine on the kitchen island. He answers it and talks briefly, then hangs up.

“Everyone,” he calls to the house. “The Marshal and Iris have arrived.”

Nyx finishes and quickly rinses his plate, dries it off with a towel, and looks for where to put it up. Ignis directs him to a cabinet and smiles.

“Perhaps you aren’t as helpless as the others say.”

“What exactly are the others saying?”

“That being out of commission for over a decade has made you rusty, both culturally and in combat. I should like to see that disproved.”

Nyx gives him a snarky grin.

“Maybe I’ll use it to my advantage to keep Ravus off my back.”

Said General passes by and gives Ignis a nod. He’s toting several bags that look like a mix of his and Luna’s. Luna follows him with two more.

“Lead the way,” he says, and Ignis directs them to the door.

Outside, Cor, Iris, and a glaive wait beside two cars. Ignis directs the Nox Fleurets to the trunk of the first one, then turns to the other three and greets them.

“You’re looking good, Ignis,” Cor says with an approving grin. He crosses his arms and eyes his engagement band. “I assume you’ve taken to this being royal thing pretty easily?”

“I’m not quite royalty yet, Marshal,” he says. He’s wearing his visor to block the early morning sun. “Though I anticipate the growing pains will be minimal, given how I’ve served royalty for the entirety of my life.”

“That’ll help you at parties and table talks, but not in marriage,” Cor replies, smile turning serious. “You know I’m always here for advice when you need it. You initiated this thing so I expect you to see it through properly. It’s what you two deserve.”

His eyes are averted when he says this and Ignis finds his paternal instincts charming. For a man of almost sixty, he’s never shown signs of slowing or settling down. Ignis pushes up his glasses with two fingers, pointedly using his left hand.

“Were Clarus here, he’d be appalled to know your fatherly concerns are directed toward grown men as opposed to your own children.”

Cor scoffs in response.

“If that old coot were still alive, he’d be breathing down Gladio’s neck to give him some grandbabies, not wasting time on me.”

He looks at Iris beside him.

“You plan on making your Dad a grandpa anytime soon?”

Iris shakes her head.

“I don’t have time for that right now.”

She looks at Ignis, eyes shining.

“It’s gonna be so much fun to ride with you guys, and for real this time! No more middle seats for me.”

She puts her hands on her hips in a triumphant stance. She’s wearing a quarter-sleeve shirt with a scarf and her muscles flex beneath it. Ignis smiles and reaches for her bicep, giving it a good squeeze.

“So, the tales were no exaggeration: Iris the daemon slayer, bold as the sun.”

“Gladdy better watch his back, ‘cause I’m coming for that title of Shield.”

He stands straight again and watches the others packing away their things. The glaive who arrived with Iris and Cor is helping to load luggage into the trunks. He feels a twinge of recognition.

“Familiar face?” Cor asks, spotting the question in his eyes. “That’s the Glaive who came with us to Insomnia. She, Libertus, and Nyx were serving under Regis when the ceremony took place. Came all the way from Galahd to see you off.”

He continues examining her, eyebrows drawn. He should have recognized her from height alone: she towers over everyone here besides Gladiolus, and he suspects she’s only an inch or two shorter. Prompto passes her a bag and the difference is almost comical, even when she’s leaning over and he’s not. He looks down and sees she’s not in heels. Noct slides in beside him and shakes the Marshal’s hand, then Iris’. She nods at him, then points to their rings.

“So, pretty awesome,” she says. “I hear you guys are the first to have an Advisor-King relationship on the books. Rumors are everywhere but I don’t believe any of them.”

“Some of them might be true,” Noct teases. Iris giggles and Cor raises an eyebrow. He looks past Ignis and his expression remains that way. Ignis turns and sees Gladio and Prompto walking together, bumping arms playfully and laughing. He exhales.

“Guess old Clarus will have to wait longer than we expected for another Amicitia.”

Iris and Noctis look their direction as well, then turn back to the Marshal. Noct can barely contain the smile on his face.

“Guess we should have mentioned that.”

“Has it been going on for a while?”

“Not too long. There’s been no work-code violations if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“And I assume my role is to just listen to everything the King says and not question it?” Cor replies.

“Disappointed?” Iris asks. Cor shakes his head.

“Not necessarily. We don’t show favoritism at the Citadel, and something like this would be a problem were it the Captain and one of his petty officers. But because it’s the nation’s ambassador…”

“And the fact that it’s Prompto…” Noct adds matter-of-factly. Cor nods.

“The rules aren’t the same. If they want to make it official, they better wait until your whole marriage hullabaloo is over with. There’s no way we have the resources and manpower to pull a double-wedding.”

Now it’s Iris’ turn to look amused.

“There’s no way they’d get married this early into a relationship. Just look at Noct and Ignis.”

She does look at them, smile supportive.

“They’ve been dating for years and just decided to make it official. They’ve set a good example.”

Noct is as composed as he can be but Ignis can feel the slight discomfort from him. He brushes their hands to get his attention.

“Let’s start loading up. Wouldn’t want to be left behind.”

As they make their way into Gladio’s house for the final bags, Prompto finds Nyx, who is standing off to the side watching.

“Nothing to bring?” he asks casually.

“You can’t bring stuff to the afterlife. It all gets left behind.”

“Boy, you sure do talk about being dead a lot.”

“It’s a major bullet point on my resume.”

Nyx sees Luna and watches her. Ravus opens the back door to the car for her, and shuts it when she gets seated. He rounds to the other side and gets in beside her. Nyx can’t make out who the driver is but assumes he won’t be riding with them anyways. He turns to Prompto.

“Those cars going to fit everyone?”

“Oh yeah. Whoever sits next to Gladio might have to squeeze tight but otherwise should be smooth sailing. Same for the Regalias, only there’ll be four to a car, then.”

Noct and Ignis walk past. Noct sets his stuff down and stands in front of them.   
“Ready to go?” he asks. Prompto salutes in response.

“Yes, sir! Ready to set sail once more.”

He looks at Nyx, who nods.

“Sure. Which car am I in?”

“You’ll be with Iggy and I in the first one with Gladio. I’m sure you remember Cor, so you two should get along fine. We’re making straight for Hammerhead so be sure to take care of business before we set out.”

“I call shotgun!” Prompto says and runs past them to the second car. He meets Iris there, and they exchange brief conversation before he opens the back door for her to sit next to Ravus, then loads into the front seat himself. Noct turns to face Nyx once more.

“Say your goodbyes to Insomnia?”

“For now,” he replies. He looks up at the sky.

“I’m sure I’ll be back once this is all over.”


	17. On the Road Again

They make it to Hammerhead with no complications. The lot of them pile out from the cars to greet Cindy, Cid, and Talcott, while Nyx remains behind in the car. Cor stares at him from the rearview mirror.

“Not gonna join them?”

“I’d just be intruding.”

“Cut the self-deprecation crap. There’s no room for it where you all are headed.”

“It’s not that,” Nyx replies and meets his eyes in the reflection.

“I don’t know these people like they do.”

Cor is quiet for a moment before continuing.

“Neither is Lunafreya. But she’s being diplomatic by putting herself out there. You could learn a thing or two.”

“The only difference between us being that she’s a Queen and I’m just a soldier. They don’t teach manners in the Kingsglaive.”

“What, were you raised in a barn?” Cor asks, aggravation apparent in his voice. He turns around in the driver’s seat. Nyx meets his eyes with no hesitation.

“Don’t tell me your Mom reared you alongside wolves. There’s a way to do things, and if you want to earn everyone’s trust you’ll have to step outside your comfort zone.”

“Sorry to report, sir, but my mother is dead. Maybe the Astrals should’ve taught me better when I was hanging out with them in the clouds.”

He opens the car door and steps out into the sun. The trunks to two identical cars are open and he assumes that they’re the Regalia and Regalia II. The rest of the party is busy talking, so he starts loading things from trunk to trunk. He turns around for a second trip and sees a person, standing away from the rest. She’s dressed in a Glaive’s uniform and is watching them with a neutral expression. She must be the other driver, he realizes. Curious, he approaches her and leans on the car, smile coy.

“I know you,” he says. She looks down at him and a tiny smile crosses her lips.

He looks away and back at the group. The blond, who he assumes is Cindy the Mechanic, is pulling on Prompto’s ear while the others laugh and he despairs.

“You’re not as surprised to see me as the others were. Did you know I was dead when we were talking?”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She starts typing and he almost wants to roll his eyes but stops when she flashes the screen to him.

_ when the dreams stopped I knew something happened. _

He gives her a curious look. She has traditional tattoos on her face but he doesn’t recognize any of them.

“You came all the way from Galahd because of that?”

A nod.

“Does Libertus know you’re here?”

She shakes her head back and forth, dark hair swinging. He smacks his lips, then laughs.

“Better not tell him, I guess. I’m sure you two left it in good hands.”

They both look at the group, who have moved from talking to loading up. Cor is chatting with Cindy and a younger man, gesturing back and forth to the sets of cars. She tips her hat to him and jabs a thumb at herself, then to the guy beside her. He decides to address the elephant in the room.

“Are you choosing not to talk or can you not?”

She types out a quick message.

_ I like you better in dreams. you ask less personal questions. _

He chuckles at her response. She brings it back to her face, deletes it, then types out another message to show him.

_ plus I can speak in those _

He meets her eyes again.

“What happened?”

_ accident with a knife. doesn’t stop me from doing my job though. _

He doesn’t mean to stare but looks at the long scar across her neck for longer than he needs to. When he looks up, she’s staring at him.

She pulls the phone back and he looks at his feet, slightly embarrassed. A tap on his shoulder and he sees the phone there again a second later.

_ take care of yourself. _

It’s oddly cryptic coming from someone who can’t speak. He decides not to himself, settling for a pat on the shoulder. He has to reach quite a ways with his hand to do so.

“How tall are you, anyways?” he asks in parting. She types a response on her phone.

_ ask Prompto. _

He knows his face looks very puzzled but she offers nothing in the way of explanation. Cor approaches and asks her if she’s ready to return to the Citadel. She nods, then gives a short wave his way. He does the same. He hears a honk behind him and turns to look. Noctis has one foot out of the open driver’s door and is waving to him.

“C’mon, let’s get this show on the road!” he calls. Prompto pops out of the passenger side and waves to him, so he rounds the vehicle and climbs inside next to Iris. He fastens his seatbelt and Noct pulls out of the garage’s drive, taking a left then a right.

“No  fianc é ?” he asks. Noct immediately know what he means.

“We trust Iggy to drive more than anyone, and me second. Having two cars means we both get to reconnect with the Regalia. Naturally, he got the original.”

Iris leans forward in her seat.

“How can you tell which one is which?” she inquires.

“We had Cindy reupholster the seats of the first one when they got too messed up, so the colors on those are different than this one. She didn’t have time to give it the same treatment, but at least we know whose is whose.”

“Why does Iggy get the original one?” Prompto asks, turning from the window and his camera. Noct shrugs like it’s obvious.

“He has more attachment to her. He was always the driver with us, and also drove alone for a few years before his eyesight got worse and he couldn’t.”

Prompto fully turns from the window.

“I thought it was because the Regalia got to a point where Cindy didn’t have time to fix her.”

“...That too. His eyes are fine now, so don’t worry about the other guys. Something about the stuff in the air and increase of daemonic activity those years really took its toll. I told him to hand the reins over if it started happening again.”

“So that’s why he wears that visor sometimes. Because his eyes hurt?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Why did he stop wearing his normal glasses?” Iris chimes in.

“He can see fine without them. The visor doesn’t correct his vision at all, just helps with glare and UV rays. Or something.”

“Or something,” Prompto scoffs back. He turns around in his seat and readies his camera.

“Squish together and say marmalade sandwich!”

Nyx doesn’t know what he means but Iris grabs him by the shoulders and her hand shoots up in a peace sign. His camera flashes and Nyx squints against it, both Prompto and Iris settling back into their seats. Noct is watching him in the rearview.

“Expect a lot of that to happen. It’s sort of his MO to take photos on a trip.”

“And anywhere and everywhere,” Prompto replies, setting it in his lap.

“I know we were just joking last time we talked about it, but I’m gonna take so many photos of you guys’ wedding. You’ll never be able to forget it.”

“Gotta make up for lost time somehow,” Noct replies. Nyx looks to Iris for clarification.

“He was going to take them for Noct and Lady Lunafreya’s wedding, but with all that happened, well…”

“But it’s okay now! ‘Cause Noct is gonna let me take photos of him in lingerie.”

“Stop,” Noct warns from the driver’s seat. Iris puts a hand up to her face and laughs.

“Seriously?”

“No, not seriously.”

“Yes, seriously!”

Noct rolls his eyes. “Bet they’re not having this conversation in the other car.”

“Why don’t you ride with them, then?” Prompto replies. “I’m sure they’d be real happy to talk politics with you.”

Noct takes his eyes off the road to give Prompto a disappointed look. His tone betrays his expression, however.

“You’re cheeky lately. What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t think you’ve smiled this much since high school.”

“Maybe it’s because I’ve got a reason to do it again.”

Silence falls in the car. Nyx feels the awkwardness so he speaks up to break it.

“Is that reason the Captain, this trip, or the wedding?”

“Yes,” Prompto replies. It’s such a stupid answer that Nyx slumps back in his seat, Iris patting his leg.

“You’ll get used to it. These boys would be nothing without their cruddy sense of humor.”

Prompto spits out his tongue and Nyx laughs, turning to look out the window. The landscape isn’t completely barren. There’s rock formations scattered among the rolling hills of gold sand, with sage and brush sprinkled throughout to add a splash of color. Prompto has his camera out again and is snapping.

“Ooh ooh!” He calls out. “That’s where we fought the Adamantoise! Remember?”

“Yeah,” Noct replies fondly, glancing out Prompto’s window when he can.

“Can we stop for a photo?”

“It’s full of tourists,” Noct says disinterestedly. “We made it a point to avoid crowded places if we can.”

“We’re stopping by Lestallum, aren’t we? That’s pretty dang crowded.”

“But inevitable,” Iris says. “We’ll have to be there for food and to see Holly at the power plant.”

Prompto juts out his bottom lip and sits back.

“Being a government official isn’t fun at all.”

“Neither is being King. You get recognized anywhere you go, even in countries you’ve never visited.”

“Wah wah, I’m Noct the King and I don’t like being super rich and powerful.”

He smacks Prompto’s leg and a small scuffle ensues, Iris telling them to settle down before Ignis notices the swerving and pulls them over.

Ignis has in fact noticed the swerving.

From the car behind, he contemplates calling Noct and telling him to pull over and get it all out before they reach Galdin, but remembers that it’s Prompto in the passenger seat and decides against it. They’ll never get enough of teasing one another.

Gladio has his elbow leaned against the window sill and is watching the environment pass them by. They only have a few more miles to their destination and already there’s signs of grass and the scent of the ocean. Luna is reading a book and Ravus is checking over a map, reading glasses perched on his nose. The radio is tuned in to a nondescript classical station.

“Feel free to choose a radio channel, Gladio,” Ignis comments, and the man turns from the window.

“What’s good these days?” he asks.

“There’s the station out of Lestallum but I doubt we’ll be able to pick it up just yet. There’s also the one from the Secullam Pass, or closer in proximity is the Three Valleys broadcast.”

Gladio fiddles with the station dial and something upbeat comes on.

“Looks like we can get Lestallum after all.”

“Cindy must have installed a new receiver, then,” Ignis replies.

“Do keep it down,” Ravus saus without looking up. “I find it difficult to concentrate with too much noise.”

“Noted,” Gladio replies dryly. Ignis steps in.

“How are we looking, Ravus? Will that alternate route buy us more time before the heavy rains start or will we just be prolonging our drive for naught?”

“If we reach Duscae within two days we should be upon the second tomb with time to spare. Those rains will not take effect until we are clear of the area.”

“Why don’t we just hit up the first one today?” Gladio asks.

“We could easily do so,” Ignis starts. “But we’ve agreed to staying the night at Galdin, first and foremost. As homage to our first trip.”

“I have read much about the Quay,” Lunafreya says, closing her book and setting in on her lap. “The water is lovely this time of year.”

“Indeed,” Ignis replies. They reach the top of the hill leading down to the resort and all four of them pause to observe the view.

“It’s beautiful…” Luna says. In the car ahead Ignis can see the others doing the same.

They wind down the paved road, passing a few parked cars and walking people.

“After the world fell into darkness,” Ignis starts. “The Quay was left to disrepair. There was not much could be done with it as it’s too far from Lestallum to properly send power to. No boats were sailing to and from Altissia so the port was closed first, then the rest followed soon after. Daemons were said to have overrun it, making it a frequently visited location for the Hunters. Unfortunately, many of them never returned from it.”

“Are their names recorded, so we might eulogize them in the memorial?”

“Meldacio kept thorough records of all whom they sent to the field, as well as those who were never seen again. There is a chance they may have survived, but given the conditions…”

“It’s highly unlikely,” she finishes. Ignis nods.

They pull into adjacent parking spots, Ignis choosing to back in instead of drive forward into it. The others are waiting outside when they pile out.

“Comfy trip?” Noct asks. Ignis pockets the keys and stops in front of him.

“She drives as smooth as ever. It appears Cindy has installed new radio equipment as well. We were able to pick up the main station from Lestallum.”

“Already?” Prompto asks. “Man, that’s a strong signal.”

They make to set out to the restaurant but Noct doubles back for the car. He roots around in it for a couple of minutes before locking the doors, looking disappointed.

“I forgot my hat back at Gladio’s,” he says. Iris teases him.

“I don’t think a hat is going to hide the fact that you’re the King. You look way too unique to pass as anyone else.”

“Should’ve gotten a haircut,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. Ignis beckons him over and smooths his own hands over his dark locks, pushing them down on his head. He makes a twirling motion with a finger to tell Noct to spin around so he does. Ignis pulls a hairband from his pocket and combs it back with his fingers again, pulling as much hair as he can into the elastic. It forms a short ponytail that loses more and more hair when he moves his head, but it works. He plops an extra pair of shades on his face and moves it back and forth to examine his work.

“We should acquire some different clothes to further conceal our identities, but this will have to do.”

“Dude,” Prompto snorts. “That’s the saddest little ponytail I’ve ever seen.”

“Can it,” Noct says, turning back to his  fianc é. “Thanks, Specs. At least it’s something. You gonna do anything with yours?”

“Not much can be done, I’m afraid,” he says. Iris chimes in.

“I can put it in a bun! Your hair looks long enough for a small one, anyways. And I can braid Gladdy’s, no problem.”

She turns to Ravus, face concentrating.

“Not sure what I could do with yours, though.”

“My appearance is best left well enough alone,” he replies. Iris reaches up and starts running her hands through it anyways.

“I can do it how Noct used to wear his, or even Ignis,” she says, more to herself than anyone. He backs up with a scowl and brushes it into place with a hand.

“No, thank you.”

She smiles at him, pushing a finger to her cheek cutely.

“There! Fixed it yourself.”

She had parted it with her fingers and allowed it to assume a more modern style, Ravus’ fussing adding a hint of personality. Luna smiles and sets a hand on Iris’ arm.

“Perhaps you can do something about that beard, next,” she says, and Ravus grimaces. He turns around in a flourish and walks to the trunk of their car.

“I shall stay behind. I trust you all will keep Lunafreya safe.”

Luna leans in to whisper.

“He’s just shy.”

They spend some time making their appearances look less and less like themselves: Iris combs Gladio’s hair and braids it all together loosely, then puts her own in a ponytail. She bounces up to Nyx and gently lifts the braid which has fallen in front of his shoulder.

“You’re not out in the public much, are you Mr. Ghost?” she asks. She pushes it over his shoulder and decides it’s okay. “You have a pretty unique haircut, so I think you’ll be alright.”

“The paparazzi won’t be clamoring for my picture?” he asks. She shakes her head amiably, brushes a hair from his face, and slides a pair of shades onto his nose. He’s wearing his Glaive uniform but without the jacket so it will have to do for now.

When they’re all finished, they look like a bunch of tourists. There were almost enough pairs of sunglasses to go around for everyone and Ignis made sure they at least put sunscreen on their faces.

“We should go in groups of two,” Ignis says. “To minimize the congestion. Since Ravus won’t be joining us, there will be a group of three.”

“Iris should join us!” Prompto says, having already latched onto Gladio. She dismisses the idea outright.

“No way. I’m not going to be the third-wheel to my brother. Awkward much?”

“C’mooon, Iris,” he says, but Gladio joins her.

“Why don’t you and Noct pair up and Iris and I will do the same? We got a lot of catching up to do.”

Prompto leans over, defeated. “Fine. I guess I’ll hang out with Noct.”

“Call me Noct Gar,” he responds and offers his elbow. Prompto playfully shoves it down and they start walking towards the resort, small pushing matches ensuing. Prompto turns and waves at Nyx.

“Come join our group!” he says. Nyx looks to Ignis, who nods. He starts walking, then jogs to catch up with them. Ignis hears a distant, “boy, you’re tall,” from Prompto before their voices fade into the distance. He looks to Luna, then offers his elbow.

“Shall we?”

She smiles at him, then looks back at Ravus. Her smile turns polite and she declines.

“I should stay with him,” she says in way of an apology. “I fear he has much on his mind. I do regret leaving you without a companion.”

“Worry not,” he replies. “I’m certain another chair can be brought to Gladio and Iris’ table for me.”

“Go to your Noctis,” she says and lays a gentle hand on his chest. “This very well may be the only honeymoon you’ll receive.”

“As you wish,” he says with a bow. When he rises she has an odd look on her face.

“While we’re on this trip,” she starts, taking his hands in either of hers. “I must insist you disregard your palace conduct and treat me as you would any other person, if only for the safety of our identities. Though I do not believe any would wish to harm us, surely you understand the precautions we must take.”

He knows he looks conflicted but acquiesces nonetheless.

“Of course. My apologies for not thinking of it sooner.”

She exhales softly and lets go of his hands.

“You may take Ignis from the Citadel, but you cannot take the Citadel from Ignis.”

 

It’s quite some time before Ignis finds Noct alone, sitting at the water’s edge with a fishing pole in hand. The pole is stuck between the boards of the small pier so he surmises there’s been little activity. He sits down beside him and Noct opens his eyes, a sleepy smile crossing his face.

“Hey.”

“Hello. Catch anything noteworthy?”

“Mm, not yet. Guess the fish haven’t really come back in full swing.”

“They may be preparing to return once the summer comes.”

Clouds are building in the evening sky. Noct leans back on his hands and observes them.

“April’s showers bring May’s flowers, huh?”

“I don’t believe it will rain tonight. The air isn’t ripe with it.”

“I’m sure the garden at the Citadel will look awesome once the summer hits. There’s been record showers in Insomnia this year alone. Think it’s a symbol of some kind?”

“If you wish to apply your own experiences to it, certainly.”

“I’m thinking more like Insomnia’s experience. How the rain can wash away all the bad stuff from before and let new stuff grow. No more fires, no more death… it’s nice to think about.”

“ _ Et in Insomnia ego, _ ” Ignis says. Noct looks at him.

“What does that mean?”

“Even in Insomnia, there am I.”

“I know that, but what does it mean?”

Ignis smiles and Noct grunts, laying back on the ground and folding his hands beneath his head.

“Time for a history lesson? Go ahead, I’m all ears.”

“That would be rather unnerving.”

“Specs.”

“My apologies.”

He lays back with Noctis, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his belly. There’s a soft breeze blowing in from the ocean that carries the scent of salt with it.

“Long ago, before the unification of Lucis, there was a small shepherd’s settlement. It lie far from the de facto center of the country and had no access to the sea. It was often considered an idyllic, peaceful location, far from the terror of war and threat of the Scourge. A younger painter arrived to draw inspiration for her work and followed the shepherds out to pasture, where they let their sheep graze on the green of the land. As she observed the animals and drew with her charcoal, her gaze wandered past the scene to a small formation in the grass. Curious, she stepped from her rock to inspect it more closely. Come to see it was a tomb, sealed long ago with a boulder, now covered in moss. She called the shepherds over to ask for information as to the tomb’s occupant but they could offer none. Inscribed below the moss into the rock were the words, ‘Et in Arcadia ego.’ This man, whomever he may have been, chose to remind the citizens of Arcadia that once, he too lived in their settlement, with all its green contentment and separation from plunder and plague, and yet he had died as all men do. Their peace, seemingly everlasting, would always be interrupted by the threat of decay.”

Noct doesn’t reply to this. He watches the sky above them, blinking slowly against the setting light. Ignis reaches to his face and plucks the visor from his eyes, blinking several times himself to adjust to the intrusion. He lets the contemplative silence stretch on for a moment longer before breaking it, voice soft.

“I know you need no reminder of the frailties of life. But to be disappointed when fear and death still take hold of the ones we know is less of a kind fate.”

“I want to protect them,” Noct replies, eyes searching the heavens. “I want to make sure that no one in Insomnia has to face what they did during the Dark Years ever again. We’ve had enough war, Scourge, and death to last for generations. I’m not selfish for wanting that, am I?”

He scoots closer to Noct and offers his left pinkie. Noct looks at it, smiles, then takes it with his own. They lower their hands and return looking at the sky, the sun nearly set on the Quay.

“Would we were all able to reverse death and save the living from it,” he says wistfully. There’s a  _ plop _ noise from the water and Noct shoots up. He sees the fishing line pull and scrambles towards it on his hands and knees, reaching it and beginning to reel when the fish stops fighting.

“C’mon…” he groans, eyes set on the prize. He pulls and turns the rod with a practiced expertise and sighs, face falling in disappointment, when the fish gets free of his lure.

“So much for a fish dinner,” he says and sends the rod away, turning around to face Ignis.

“We staying at the haven tonight?”

“Indeed. We should round up the others and begin making camp.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The two of them make their way across the shoreline, pinkies entwined. Lights twinkle softly from the resort above them. If he squints ever so slightly, they stretch and fade into all sorts of shapes. He glances beside him and sees Ignis watching him.

“What?”

“What  _ are  _ you doing?” he asks, bemused. Noct smiles and turns back to the resort, squinting and unsquinting his eyes.

“If I do this then the lights look funny. Sometimes they look like stars, other times they just look like dots.”

“I thought you had something in your eyes.”

“No, just tears for my future with an unimaginative husband.”

Ignis pinches one of his cheeks and he swats his hand away, comfortably squeezing their pinkies together. The sun is almost completely set by now but not all of the lights have come on.

They pass under the walkway and stop to observe the waves dancing against the wooden supports, twilight bouncing off of the surface. Noct pulls their hands apart and leans again one of the supports stuck into the sand, breathing in deeply and exhaling once.

“Something on your mind?”

Noct shrugs lightly.

“Not really.”

“You could fool me. It looks very similar to your signature contemplative look. Eyes far into the distance, jaw working itself back and forth. It’s got all the makings of a mind obstructed with thought.”

As he was speaking, Ignis had moved around to the other side of the support, leaning against it and gesturing with his hands. Noct acquises.

“Just thinking about our first time here and how it’s all changed. I mean, I expected the Quay and Hammerhead to, but the rest of countryside looks so peaceful. There’s businesses popping up along the highways, more people riding chocobos, better cars…”

He pauses, sighs, then continues.

“It’s not like I don’t like it. It’s good to see progress.”

“But?” Ignis inquires.

“But I can’t get my mind off it. All that time we were sitting in Insomnia, Dad was too busy with a war to pay attention to the people out here. The Crown City had peace, sure. But did Lucis?”

“The answer to that is quite obvious. Your first statement is flawed, however. The peace in Insomnia was merely a  façade; a fabrication, if you will, brought upon us all by the Wall. We could see neither the mortal struggles of the Kingsglaive nor the internal battles fought by your Father, however close in proximity he was. But we were children, Noct. The adults of the government did their utmost to ensure a corner of tranquility was left for us so as we might not grow up in turbulent times. Perhaps this mindset, however noble, is partly to blame for Insomnia’s fall.”

Noct doesn’t respond, and when it reaches a minute of silence Ignis continues.

“Have I said something wrong?”

“No, you’re right. As always.”

There’s a bitterness to his tone but he knows and Ignis knows it’s not directed at him but rather the facts. Ignis leans over and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m not always right. That would take away the fun of things, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re right often enough that when I’m in a pickle I ask myself  _ what would Ignis do _ ?”

“WWID. We should get that on a bracelet.”

Noct rests his head against his shoulder. He looks up at him a moment later.

“How’re the eyes?”

“No trouble as of yet. I do have an unrelated fear, however.”

“Talk to me.”

“It concerns Ravus. Although he has grown much since our initial encounters I still run into trouble when reading him.”

“One thing’s for certain, he doesn’t like Nyx.”

“Or sharing Lunafreya’s company.”

“He loves her. They’ve only had one another for so long, can you blame him?”

There’s a small, knowing smirk on Ignis face for a moment. He straightens and pushes off of the support pole.

“Where is our man of the hour?”

Noct lifts his head from Ignis’ shoulder and stretches his arms into the air, groaning.

“Somewhere with Prompto. Maybe he’s catching him up on all the stuff he’s missed.”

They make their way up the stairs from the beach, then the second flight leading to the walkway. Noct glances towards the cars and sees the Nox Fleurets sitting side by side on a bench nearby, small foodstuffs in hand. Ravus is actually smiling and it catches him so off-guard he stumbles on one of the steps. Ignis catches his arm and helps him right himself. Just then, Iris comes bounding towards them.

“So, the betrothed return! Ready for some food?”

Her sunglasses are perched on top of her head and she has new tan lines where her tank top moves on her shoulders.

“Have you been in the sun all day?” Ignis asks. She nods.

“Gotta get my vitamin D somehow. What better way than a gun show?”

She says this with a slight flex and Noct wants to roll his eyes.

“Your biceps are bigger than Prompto’s head. Put those away or they’ll arrest you for carrying without a license.”

She sticks her bottom lip out in a mock pout.

“Sorry, officer. I left my license at home with all my cares.”

Noct breathes in through his teeth and makes an “oof” in response like he’s seen someone get hurt.

“You’re certainly sassy,” Ignis says. She reaches for their hands and pulls them along behind her.

“C’mooon, let’s go eat!”

They’re pulled to a table in the resort and sit down in two vacant seats. Iris sits at the one across from them and Noct looks around, seeing Prompto and Gladio on their phones. There’s one more empty seat but no Glaive in sight.

“Where’s Nyx?” he asks. Prompto looks up and shrugs.

“He said he had to go to the bathroom. Dunno where he ended up but he’s been gone for a long time.”

“You let him off on his own?” Ignis asks, slight reprimand in his tone. Prompto sets his phone on the tabletop, screen off.

“I’m not gonna follow him everywhere, especially if he needs to do personal stuff. That’s just creepy.”

Noct gets it but exchanges worried glances with Iris and Ignis nonetheless. Iris pushes her chair back and makes to stand.

“I’ll go find him. He can’t have gone far.”

“Stay for just a sec,” Gladio says, stuffing his phone into his pocket. He uncorks a bottle from the center of the table and begins filling shot glasses, passing them down and around to everyone sitting. He pours one lastly for himself and holds it up, elbow resting on the table.

“A toast, to us and our journey,” he starts, eyes finding all of theirs. “May we kick ass and take names, and bring back home some answers for our people.”

They all tap their glasses with a simultaneous chant of  _ salud _ and knock them back. Prompto stands and stretches.

“I’ll go order us some food. We want it here?”

Noct squinches his nose at the burning aftertaste of alcohol. “No use in eating Galdin’s fancy food outside of the resort.”

Prompto raps his knuckles against the glass before making his way to the bar. Iris stands and smoothes down her skirt.

“I’ll go find him now. Won’t take me long.”

She leaves the opposite way of the resort, thanking the greeter who wishes her a good night. Ignis leans back in his chair, legs crossed, and slides one arm around the back of Noct’s chair. He turns his attention to Gladio.

“Any news from the Citadel?” he asks. Gladio looks up from his phone, then back down.

“Nothin’ much. First day reports look fine. Apparently there’s a hashtag now for Nyx on social media.”

“Really?” Noct asks. Gladio reads a popular status aloud.

“At least #GalahdianGhost works out. No ghost wants to look bad for all eternity.”

He scoffs and sets his phone down. Noct shakes his head.

“I don’t know what we’ll do if word about him gets out before we have a chance to address it.”

“Someone has already spilled the beans about his training habits,” Ignis says. Noct purses his lips. Gladio speaks up.

“At least they don’t know it’s him. All the rumors are saying is that there’s someone livin’ in the Citadel but no one knows who or what it is.”

“How do they know he’s from Galahd?” Noct asks, sipping on a glass of water.

“Someone must’ve seen his tattoos. Doesn’t look like actual media is paying any attention to it so we’re safe for now.”

They sit and chat, breaking up the talk of work with discussion about their trip. Iris comes back some time later looking troubled.

“Find him?” Gladio asks. She shakes her head.

“I asked the staff and no one has seen someone like him in the last couple of hours. Luna and Ravus also said they hadn’t seen him come or go at all from where they were.”

Prompto approaches the table, saying that food will be out to them shortly. He looks like he’s thinking, then turns back around.

“Forgot something.”

He leaves then returns a moment later, camera in hand. There’s an unsteadiness to the atmosphere of the table, broken only when a waitress brings over their meals. Ignis stops her before she can walk away.

“Is Coctura still the head chef here?” he asks politely. She nods her head.

“Yes, but right now she’s on maternity leave. She and her husband left for Accordo nine months ago, and, well, that’s that!”

He thanks her and Prompto coos after she walks away.

“Aww, Coctura had a baby! I wonder who her hubby is, though.”

“Not like we knew her personal life all that well,” Gladio says, picking up his fork and knife. There’s a live band playing near the massage area and someone has switched the lights so that they pulse slowly from bright to dim and back again. They eat, comfortable interjections of conversation in between, then sit back with lighter drinks. Gladio, Noctis, Iris, and Ignis are in a conversation when Prompto speaks up abruptly, gathering their attention.

“Woah,” he says, sitting up in his chair. All eyes turn to him as he looks at his camera’s display in his lap.

“Woah, what?” Gladio asks. Prompto offers the camera and makes a quiet observation with his finger, Gladio’s eyebrows creasing together in growing frustration. He passes the camera to Ignis and Noctis, pointing the same way that Prompto had done to the display.

“Tell me what’s wrong with this picture,” he says, voice hard. The two of them lean in and Iris rounds the table to look over their shoulders.

“I dunno,” Noct says, eyeing it closely. “I don’t see anything.”

Iris takes it and scrolls through the rest of the pictures, then back to the one. She has a similar face to Gladio’s.

“Noct,” she says, passing it back. “That’s the photo Prompto took of us in the car.”

“Us?”

“Me and Nyx.”

“But there’s no Nyx.”

“Precisely,” Ignis says, interest piqued. He takes the camera and observes it. Noct looks at it with him.

It’s a picture of Iris in the backseat of the Regalia, smiling and flashing a peace sign. Her left arm is suspended in air in what looks like she’s grabbing something, or someone, around the shoulders.

“Curious!” Ignis remarks. “Even the seatbelt is pulled taut where he should have been.”

“Any chance this is a problem with your camera?” Noctis asks Prompto.

“No way! Cameras don’t just edit out people when they feel like it. I remember taking that pic and Nyx was there, I swear it.”

“We’re not doubtin’ you,” Gladio says, reaching for the camera. Ignis passes it to him and he gives it a long stare. “But we definitely need to figure out what’s going on.”

“First, we must find our man,” Ignis asserts. “I’ve found most things to be easily solved with a little questioning.”

They do, in fact, not find their man.

The party reconnects with the Nox Fleurets and they search the vicinity surrounding the Quay to no avail. They reach the campsite stationed at the end of the shoreline and Prompto sighs, flopping down into a chair.

“You don’t think we missed him, do you? There’s no way he’d run away.”

“We don’t know that,” Noct replies. “Though, it would be weird. He told us he wants to know what’s going on as well.”

“We can’t exactly keep him in chains,” Ignis says. He’s passing Gladio spikes for the tent and brings the tools for the second one to Prompto. He gives a put-on sigh and stands, making his way to the other side of the campfire. “Those aren’t easy to haul around. The man isn’t a prisoner.”

“Isn’t he, though?” Iris asks. “He’s definitely a prisoner of something, or someone. I’d wanna run away if I were in his shoes.”

Luna is sitting in a chair, elbow resting on the arm and chin in her hand.

“It simply doesn’t make sense,” she says worriedly. “Nyx runs towards his problems, not from them. He must have a reason for leaving. And a reason to return.”

Noct takes a seat at the edge of the haven.

“Guess one of us will have to stay up and wait for him. Who wants first watch?”

Prompto straightens his back and rubs it gently.

“Some first night, huh?” he asks rhetorically, then raises his hand. “I’ll do it. Don’t feel tired enough for bed yet.”

Noct nods at him and he resumes pitching the tent. Gladio finishes his task and joins them near the fire. He pats Iris’ back and she gives him a small smile in acknowledgment.

“Don’t worry. He’ll show back up.”

“Maybe it’s best if he doesn’t.”

“I second that sentiment,” Ravus says, speaking for the first time since they started camp. Iris eyes him and Gladio but Luna doesn’t look either way. Noct stands and brings a chair close to hers, offering her his phone.

“Want to see some photos I took?” he asks. She smiles, grateful for the distraction. Meanwhile, Prompto lays on his back on the haven floor, studying the stars above. One by one, everyone trickles off to bed until Prompto is the last one up. He shifts stiffly and reaches for his phone. Several hours pass and Gladio emerges from the tent to relieve him, eyes filled with sleep, but Prompto insists he’s alright and tells him to go back to bed.

“You sure?” Gladio asks, lightly nudging his boot. “Noct’s gonna need you awake to navigate.”

“I’ll be alright,” he answers truthfully. Gladio accepts his answer and reenters the tent but returns a minute later with a blanket. He plops down against a wooden box and wraps it around his shoulders. Prompto sees him do this and turns his eyes back to the skies. A few minutes later, Gladio is asleep again. Prompto relents, sitting up and crawling beside him to the box.

“Move over,” he teases and Gladio startles slightly, offering some blanket when Prompto tugs on the edges. They sit together but the Shield knocks out almost immediately, Prompto following shortly afterwards. The warmth of the fire coupled with the security of his boyfriend is enough to help him sleep dreamlessly for the first night in months.

 

When he wakes, the sun is already up. He shifts and tries to stretch but he’s snuggled so deeply into his sleeping position that it makes it difficult to do without disturbing Gladio. He shifts around, trying to get his feet out from under him, when he hears footsteps. His vision is blurry and his eyes ache from having slept in his contacts but the black and purple silhouette of Nyx coming to a halt before him is something he can recognize.

“Hey,” is all he can say. Were he more awake he’d be alarmed.

“Hey,” Nyx replies. There’s a pot of coffee on the kitchenette and Nyx helps himself to two mugs, filling them up and holding one in each hand. He kneels before Prompto and offers one to him, which Prompto accepts. Their casual conversation should instead be “where were you, what the hell do you think you’re doing, don’t you know we were worried?” kind of talk, but he lets the strong taste of Ignis’ coffee wash away his worries, if even for a little while.

Nyx has taken a seat in front of him and nurses on his mug. He’s wearing his Glaive jacket even though Prompto’s 100% sure he didn’t wear it inside the resort.

“Where’d the jacket come from?” he asks. Nyx looks at it as if it’s just spawned on his person.

“Oh, this old thing? I grabbed it from the car last night.”

He reaches into his pocket and offers something to Prompto. He holds out his hand and Nyx deposits the keys to the Regalia into them. He eyes them with confusion.

“Didn’t Noct take these last night?”

Nyx scratches his nose and shakes his head.

“Yeah, he did. I gave you his jacket after he left it behind but the keys had fallen out. I don’t sleep so well at night so I figured it was a good chance to get away.”

“You slept in the Regalia?”

Nyx nods and blows on his coffee.

He’s about to protest but can’t make the words come out. It’s his sympathy, he realizes. Prompto doesn’t exactly sleep well, either, and any excuse to not annoy the others with his constant tossing is one he takes and runs with.

Beside him, Gladio stirs. At the same time he hears more footsteps and looks up to see Ignis. His sharp eyes find Nyx first then settle onto Prompto, disappointed. He doesn’t say anything, however. He instead reaches for a clean mug and pours himself a drink, leaning against the kitchenette and crossing his legs one over the other.

Gladio stretches his arms above him, face content. It morphs from contentment to confusion when he opens his eyes and sees Nyx in front of him. He looks at Prompto.

“Anything you wanna tell me?”

“It seems our mystery man has returned,” Ignis answers, not entirely uncross.

Nyx apologizes to them first then offers an explanation, to which Ignis offers advice.

“I’ve suggested melatonin to Prompto before but he seems ever reluctant to take my advice. I’m sure the car’s seats aren’t entirely comfortable.”

“They’re not bad,” Nyx offers, smile casual. Prompto darts from his sitting position and grabs his camera.

“That doesn’t explain this, though!”

He turns it on and scrolls through the pictures until he finds the one of him and Iris. Nyx takes the camera and looks at the photo. His eyebrows shoot upwards but otherwise he doesn’t respond immediately, passing it back to the blond. He waits expectantly.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Why aren’t you showing up?!”

Nyx shrugs, frustratingly nonchalant.

“You think I know what the hell is going on more than any of you do? I got no clue.”

During this, Noctis had surfaced from his slumber and joined Ignis by the kitchenette. Prompto notices, with a hint of jealousy, how his sleep-mussed hair makes him look handsome still, and how after a short time of not shaving his facial hair is already making a strong comeback. He himself can go weeks without so much as a trim and his goatee doesn’t budge a centimeter.

He looks down into his mug and sips at it, eyes landing on Nyx. He’s saying something but Prompto isn’t paying attention to it. Instead, he feels his eyebrows knit when he sees a grey, spider-like scar starting from the top of one hand and disappearing under the sleeve of his jacket. Maybe he hadn’t noticed it before, or maybe it was new, both situations unlikely as he’d mentally slapped himself for not-too-conspicuously checking the Glaive out at the Quay yesterday. Scars take time to form, don’t they? This one looks old. The skin surrounding it looks ashy and rough. There’s a slight tremor to his movements when he gestures like it hurts to move. Prompto isn’t sure whether he should bring it up or not, fearing the answer will be the same as the one to why he’s basically a ghost in photographs.

Everyone is awake now and he soon forgets his curiosity in the face of the hustle and bustle. Amidst the small chaos of breakfast, packing, and Nyx explaining himself several times and apologizing to Lunafreya more than that, they get back on the road for the short trip towards Costlemark Tower, the first of the tombs they hope to find an answer in.


	18. Ex Aequo Et Bono

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ex aequo et bono = what is right and good

Costlemark Tower is nearly overgrown with ivy and dead leaves from the tree canopy above. The party, were it not for the map and general, growing sense of uneasiness, would’ve gone right past it.

“There it is,” Noct says, moving hair from his eyes.

“As unfortunate as I remember,” Ignis adds. Gladio turns to Nyx, arms crossed.

“You ready to find some answers?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

They traverse the hill leading to the tower, the footpath worn from years of travellers entering and possibly never returning. It’s in groups of two that they march their way up there, Noctis and Ignis taking the lead with Prompto and Luna behind them, followed by Iris and Ravus, then Gladio and Nyx heading up the rear. Iris shades her eyes with the blade of her hand, gaze searching the peak of the structure.

“What happens when we reach the top?” she asks. Prompto looks behind him.

“We don’t go up; we go down. That’s where all the fun is.”

“You mean there’s more to this underground?”

“Guess it wouldn’t hurt to check the top,” Gladio says, cracking his knuckles. “This is all about findin’ answers, after all. I wanna know what’s up there.”

They reach the top of the hill and start for the tower’s entrance. Noct, meanwhile, is glancing around their surroundings.

“Something the matter, Majesty?” Ignis asks him.

“I remember there being a lot more action around here. Where did everything go?”

“With the Chancellor gone and the Starscourge obliterated, the daemons who once haunted these grounds have long since perished.”

“Ah. Makes sense.”

There’s piles of broken stone along the bottom of the first stairwell, likely from the crumbling fixtures above. Weeds have overtaken the cracks and crevices and further split them apart. Still, the place has an eerie beauty, but that may be in part to the nostalgia.

Once they climb the third set of stairs something is definitely off. He motions for them to stop and Ignis relays it to the rest of the group. Noct looks around them silently.

“Noct?” the General asks. The trees whisper with the wind, turning the sunlight into patterns all across the grey floor.

“There’s something we’re forgetting,” he says. “But I’m not sure what.”

“The fact that this place only opens up at night?” Prompto offers. They turn to look at him.

“What? I thought you guys knew that?”

“You had us drive all the way out here just to say it’s closed for another 12 hours?” Gladio asks. Prompto lifts his hands up.

“I thought we were gonna scout it out first. You know, make sure the daemons were actually gone.”

Ignis raises a hand to his forehead and rubs his temples, then inhales.

“There’s no use in bickering over it now.”

He lowers his hand and turns to Noctis.

“It appears we’re out of luck for the time being. What’s our next course of action?”

Noct rubs his chin in thought.

“Well, we’re already here, and although it’s not too far away from where we started it’s still time we don’t want to waste.”

“Why not split the party?” Luna proposes. “Four of us remain here to wait out the enchantment and the others move on to the next location. We can select a rendezvous point and reconcile the information we’ve gathered.”

“That’s… not a bad idea,” Nyx agrees. “Though there’s four of us here who have no clue what we’re getting into.”

“Yes, we ought to split it evenly,” Ignis says. “Two of us who have seen the locations should group with two of us who have not. I believe our current pairings will be just fine, though Noct and I should separate in order to operate the vehicles.”

“Then who goes where?” Gladio asks. He looks at Nyx.

“I oughta keep you with me so there’s no more sneakin’ off. You got lucky last time but don’t think it’ll happen again.”

Nyx shrugs.

“When I’m kicking you awake at night don’t punch my lights out.”

“I’ll go with you guys,” Noct says, stepping beside Gladio. He looks to Luna, Ravus, and Iris.

“Anyone else not feel like exploring a dirty, menacing tower?”

“What’s the other option?” Iris asks. Ravus opens his map.

“Our next destination are the mines, east of here towards Insomnia. They have been out of commission for quite some time and the structural integrity is mediocre at best. We will be lucky should the ventilation remain functional.”

“I will go,” Luna says, stepping forward. “I should be able to offer healing in the instance of injury.”

“We stay together,” Ravus states, reaching for her arm. “This arrangement allows for the Amicitia siblings to remain at one another’s side as well.”

Luna looks to Iris, then Noct. The younger Amicitia takes a few steps and stands by Nyx, hands behind her back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep a close eye on him. I’ve got a lot of potions packed away in case we run into trouble.”

Luna nods and finds Noct’s eyes again. She approaches him and takes his hands in hers, squeezing them gently.

“Do be safe,” she says. He smiles in return.

“You, too.”

They let go of one another’s hands and she pats Gladio’s arms and chest, giving him a knowing smile.

“There’s no one I trust more to keep our King safe.”

He bows in response.

“You can count on me.”

And there it is: the awkward tension between Nyx and Lunafreya. Noct’s sure it wouldn’t be so unbearable if her brother weren’t here, chaperoning like a nosy Mom on a first date, but at this point he’s glad they’re being seperated if only to keep Ravus quiet. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a brief hug. Nyx’s hands start before coming to rest politely on her sides, the Queen pulling away shortly afterward. Noct notices how he very nearly leans into her hand when she cups his face, thumb running along his beard. He expects some exchange of tender words but receives none. Luna simply pulls away and wishes Iris a safe journey, Nyx visibly sighing and looking towards the tower.

The two groups stand across from each other in rows. Noct crosses his arms and leans his weight on one leg, smiling.

“So, it’s the blonds with blondes and brunets with brunettes.”

“Please, Noct,” Iris chimes in. “Your hair is more raven than anything.”

“And don’t even get me started on how Ravus is so not blond,” Prompto teases. They wave goodbye and the second group departs for the Regalia II, eyes set on the Balouve Mines.

 

The drive to the mines is a short, uneventful one. Iris and Gladio chat noisily in the backseat while Nyx stares contemplatively out of the passenger window. It’s still early morning so the radio stations have mostly been static save for the channel out of Lestallum, which plays a song Noct remembers from his Senior year of high school. He turns the dial down a quarter of the way and looks at the lonesome Glaive beside him.

“As much as we both wanna tell Ravus to go away,” he starts, and Nyx lifts his head from his hand to look at him. “He’s an important politician in my realm of things. Plus I kinda feel like I owe him for some stuff he did for us. I’m guessing you and Luna don’t really mind the separation, either.”

Nyx looks out ahead of them at the changing scenery, dark greens turning lighter and the air becoming more arid. Noct adjusts the air conditioning to make it run higher.

“It just hurts,” Nyx admits. There’s an emotion in his voice that Noct wants to place as  _ severe understatement _ but thinks, with reservation, that  _ hurt _ suits the man just fine. Nyx adjusts himself in his seat and exhales, physically blowing out what he was going to say in elaboration.

“What about you?” he asks, changing the subject. Noct glances at him and waits for a follow-up.

“I hear you and Ignis haven’t been majorly apart in years. You two are like a married couple and you’re not even married yet.”

Noct snorts in response and flips on his blinker.

“You want an old, married couple? Try having Iggy and Gladio together for more than a minute. The bitching will leave your ears ringing.”

He makes his turn and returns to the speed limit, glancing once in his mirrors then at Nyx.

“And no, not really. We’ve gotten to a point to where we can be together and it feels like we’re alone, and be apart but feel like we’re together. It just depends on how we’re feeling that day. Sure, I love his company, but I trust him to keep stuff running smoothly and that means we have to be apart sometimes.”

“Does it ever get old? Like, do you feel like you sometimes need a break from him?”

Noct shakes his head.

“We always have things to talk about. And when those run out, we can be in the same room and be doing our own things. Maybe sometimes I can get a little cranky and want to be alone, but I’ve realized that telling him that instead of giving the cold shoulder or waiting on some hints to be picked up works much better-- for both of us. Now Gladio…”

He says this last part louder and it catches both of the siblings’ attention. He smiles into the rearview.

“I can’t stand that guy. When he walks into a room I can feel my eyes rolling to the back of my head.”

“Maybe that’s ‘cause you can feel your common sense knocking on that thick skull of yours.”

Iris punches his arm and he laughs, dark hair swinging across his shoulders. Noct pipes up again.

“What about you and Prompto? You guys ever feel like being apart?”

Gladio leans forward on his knees, the seatbelt stretching with him.

“What, so we’re doin’ couple’s counselin’ now?”

“Just answer the question. We already know you’re both saps.”

Gladio nods his head up and down, thinking.

“Not really. We have our own jobs and our own places. His doesn’t have a kickass TV setup like mine so we spend most of our time together at my place. We’ll grab lunch if we’re both free. I sometimes wish we had more time in a day to hang out, but this is a good balance we got goin’ on.”

“You said he hasn’t moved in,” Iris says, leaning back in her seat. “Do you think it’s  _ only _ because of his lease?”

Gladio shrugs. “I’m real with myself: I don’t doubt he has some baggage he doesn’t wanna bring along with him, let alone show me. I get his need for privacy, and in return he gets my need to not talk about work outside of it. We get each other.”

He turns his head to look at Nyx.

“What, is there some trouble in paradise between you and Luna?”

“I’m not talking about it,” he replies.

“Definitely not talking about it,” Noct seconds. Gladio leans back into his seat, eyes finding Iris’.

“Guess it’s up to you to make a kid.”

“Why me?!”

“Someone around here needs to be makin’ babies. Noct and Iggy can’t, and neither can me and Prompto. And from the looks of it there’s not gonna be any action between our starcrossed lovers unless they want big brother watchin’.”

Nyx sneers in response and looks back out the window. Iris continues.

“Sorry, but I don’t have time for kids. I’m just as busy or even busier than you guys.”

“You’ll never have time? Never ever?”

“I didn’t say that. Just… right now.”

“What, you got a girlfriend I don’t know about?”

Iris’ face turns red and she looks away, arms flexing as she grips the seatbelt.

“I don’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I haven’t met the right person, is all.”

“Don’t be in a rush,” Nyx says ironically. “It’s not always fun and babymaking. You’ll wanna plan your life before you plan your marriage.”

“Bold, coming from someone whose been dead for over ten years.”

“And also someone who proposed just after coming back to life,” he agrees. Noct hears the humor in his words and cracks a smile, casting a glance towards the Glaive to see him doing the same. Iris and Gladio join them in laughter and Noct turns the radio back up, speeding along the highway to their first destination.

 

Back at Costlemark, the four of them begin searching the ruined area before the entrance for any clues or items of interest. Prompto ventures beyond the bridge and shouts down into one of the holes on the side of it, hearing his voice echo into the depths. He drops several rocks, hoping to provoke some kind of beast into attacking so he’d have something to do, but all he hears are the fading clatters of the stones bouncing from wall to wall. He sees Ignis saunter up beside him from the corner of his eye.

“What are you doing?”

“Throwing rocks.”

“Saw everything there was to see, I suppose?”

“Pretty much.”

Ignis watches him chunk another rock down, then another, before moving away to inspect elsewhere. Prompto leans over to pick up another stone, and upon finding none left, ventures further towards the tower’s entrance. There’s several more of varying sizes scattered around the ground and he picks them up one by one, inspecting them as he goes. He gets enough to fill both palms and turns his shirt outwards to form a bowl, depositing them and leaning over to pick up more. When he looks up, he stops in place.

“Hey, Iggy?”

“Yes?”

He hears footsteps come closer, then halt when they get nearby.

“Was the door always this broken?”

Just ahead of them, the entrance to the tower is a gaping hole, piles of rubble cascading down into the darkened depths of the sanctum. Prompto looks down at the collection of stones in his shirt and lifts one up, passing it to Ignis.

“Something sure did a number on this place.”

The General takes the piece and turns it over in his palm, looking back up with mystic concern.

“Extraordinary. This tower has been guarded by an enchantment for longer than anyone’s ever known. What force could have possibly broken it?”

“A garula? Giant snake lady? Gladio?”

He places the stone back into Prompto’s shirt and moves cautiously to the entrance. Prompto dumps the rubble back onto the ground and brushes off his clothing, turning around to call out to the others.

“Luna! Ravus! We found something!”

He sees Ravus first, then Lunafreya. He gestures to the ruined door and the rubble.

“It’s not supposed to be like that,” he states. Ignis is touching the wall where the door would have slid down come nightfall.

“Even I can tell that something uncanny has transpired,” Ravus says, kicking a rock with his boot. The ground below them shakes and Prompto steels himself, gun materializing in his hand out of habit. The Nox Fleurets react similarly and he looks to Ignis, who is jogging towards them.

“What was that?” Prompto asks him.

“I’m not certain,” he answers, looking around. “Though I would surmise that this tower runs much like a machine: remove one part of it and the rest is thrown out of tandem. The safety of this structure is now far more questionable.”

The ground jolts again and Prompto races to the bridge, peering over the edge. He can’t see more than a few feet down into the hole and leans over the railing, lifting his feet from the ground and straining his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and uses it as a flashlight.

“That’s unwise,” he hears Ravus say behind him. Several pairs of footsteps approach from behind.

“What exactly do you hope to glean from peering into darkness?”

Another jolt. He turns his head to see them lose balance, then returns his gaze forward.

“If I could just see what’s causing this thing to shake…”

He pushes up on his hands and the railing below him wobbles. Another violent shake from the tower sends him toppling over the edge and into the labyrinthe below. A short, surprised gasp is all that leaves his mouth before he’s falling headfirst into impenetrable darkness.

 

“Oh no,” Ignis whispers. He dashes forward and grapples with the railing, planting his feet on the ground and looking over the edge.

“Prompto!” he calls out. It’s almost completely covered by another rumble from below and the cracking of the ground below him. He pushes backwards from the railing and into a pair of arms, which tug him from the collapsing infrastructure. A moment later, part of the stone railing dislodges and falls after Prompto, hitting the walls with heavy _ thuds _ . Ignis is breathing harshly and remembers to stay calm after the arms holding him unravel themselves.

“Are you hurt?” Luna asks, moving in front of him. He nods and runs a hand over his hair.

“Quite alright, thank you.”

Luna glances backwards at the now-broken bridge, eyeing the growing cracks along it’s faded tiles.

“Could he survive a fall of that height?” she asks.

“We’ve no idea how deep the tower runs,” Ravus answers. “But, if we had reservations about entering the area before, they have now been dissolved. Much dismay would be had were we to lose the Lucian Ambassador, or any member of our journeying party. Ergo we enter the dungeon at our own behest: to collect person or cadaver.”

 

“Finally, some action!”

Gladio swings and lodges his greatsword into the hindquarters of a mesmenir. Scoffing, he retracts one fist and punches it square on the nose. It snaps its jaws at him and catches his forearm between its teeth, biting down and breaking the skin. He grimaces and turns his head, finding the bobbing, brown haircut of his sister some feet away.

“Iris!” he calls. She turns at the sound of her name and smiles, beginning a sprint towards his direction. She calls out for Noct and he glances to her and Gladio to assess the situation.

“On top of it!”

He kicks away a drooling beast and runs to the midway point between the siblings, kneeling down and lacing the fingers of both hands together. Iris jumps and lands on his hands, then launches herself into the air with the help of the King. Gracefully, she flips and lifts one leg, aiming for the beast which has trapped Gladio below. Her hit lands on the bony horn atop its skull and break through it, hitting the flesh below. There’s the sick sound of splintering bone before the beast falls flat, dragging Gladio with it. Noctis resumes fighting elsewhere and Iris stands, rushing to her brother’s side where he’s pushing the carcass of the animal from his legs.

“You good?” she asks, offering him a hand. He grunts and tugs on his arm, still trapped between the jaws of the mesmenir.

“Don’t pull,” she instructs and kneels down beside him. With boths hands planted on each jaw she yanks its mouth open, white teeth stained with red blood. They slide out from Gladio’s flesh and he stumbles away. Iris casts the thing aside, its tongue falling from its mouth, and stands to her full height. She hands the Shield a potion and he crushes it in one palm.

“All better?” she asks, raising a fist. Gladio taps his against hers and leverages a foot against the beast’s hindquarters, yanking his sword free with a practiced ease.

“Never better.”

A trail of blue sparks flies past them and they follow it to see Nyx materialize from it. A nearby pack of dualhorns has joined the fight, barreling through the scrubby vegetation and kicking up sand in their wake. Noct is caught between two of them when the Glaive lands atop one, wrangling its horns to draw its attention. It works but the beast shakes violently, flinging him from its back. He lands on the ground in a cloud of dirt, sputtering against the grainy taste. He sits up halfway but a mesmenir charges from his right and tackles him back down, grimy claws scratching into his clothes. He uses one hand to hold one paw and the other to push back on its face, fingers pressing into one eye. It howls and snaps at his fingers, nails digging deeper into his flesh. He kicks once and sends it flying on its side. A kukri goes flying and its throat is slashed open, dark blood staining the ground below. A small distance away, Noct breaks the horns of one dualhorn while Iris fights the other.

“Wonder if Prompto and them are having this much trouble…!!” Nyx shouts in annoyance and launches his blade and himself through the air, sparks flying away with the wind. Noct casts a glance his way and follows his movements.

“You keep using magic like that and you’ll burn up quicker than the first time.”

He’s right, Nyx knows. His arms are aching, a deep, pulsing pain that he knows runs far below the skin. If he concentrates hard enough on the fight, he can ignore the ash falling from his body as well as the red glow creeping up his cheek and across his face in a snake-like fashion. But the freedom of it all is intoxicating. He’s high on the open air and the burning in his lungs. His nights may be all pain but his days are filled with suffering he can stand if it means another chance to walk the earth. This is what he tells himself, and what he thoroughly believes is his purpose, until further notice from up above lets him in on the dastardly secret that is his rebirth. He stops to catch his breath in a valley between enemies. To his right, Gladio and Noctis tag-team a dualhorn. To the left, Iris strikes down a mesmenir. In the vast blue yonder he can see the sun still making its journey across the sky, arching big and bold above their heads. And he wonders, with all that he’s made of, if another person has ever missed the sun as much as him. A seemingly endless fall into darkness is something no one has ever come back from, and Nyx hopes anyone and everyone who dies never yearns for the light again. Because to know true peace is to celebrate what you have done and never recount what you could have had were things any different.

He would be the one to have live regrets when dead, wouldn’t he?

He closes his eyes for a moment, letting the wind gust by and throw his hair in all directions. When he opens them, the sun is still eclipsed in darkness. He turns to face the sky and instead sees a massive machine there covering the ground in darkness. It’s engine hums in an eerily reminiscent way, and the sound sends shivers up his spine. He turns around once more and searches for the others. He finds Iris and meets her eyes where she shields them with a hand.

“What is that?” she yells over the purr of the engine.

He blinks away the debris from his eyes and yells back with a grim realization.

“Magitek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end!! for now. I'll be taking a small break from this fic by splitting it into a few parts, then updating as part of a series. rest assured that I'm taking part in several projects for the holidays and will be posting them here and on my Tumblr B)  
> Your support means everything to me and I hope you continue being awesome ❤❤

**Author's Note:**

> as always, my Tumblr @wantonglances is available for update notifications and general kufuffin


End file.
